


Unexpected Experiences

by honeymink, theimpossiblegeekygrrl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gen, HP: EWE, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-26 16:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 57,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5011771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymink/pseuds/honeymink, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossiblegeekygrrl/pseuds/theimpossiblegeekygrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entering in a relationship with her former Potions Professor, Ginny is taught about her desires and learns to be herself again. Later, a Yuletide train ride to Hogwarts with old friends shows just how much everyone has changed since the War. 'The Slug' dances again, and House ties are finally severed as the group of revellers meet in close quarters.  Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awareness

The next morning, night having passed in bitter silence, Ginny wrapped her broom in oilcloth and put it next to the roomy crescent-shaped leather bag that held a change of clothes and a few necessities. 

“I’m sure if you just talked to Harry again,” her mother started, still crediting all this to some misunderstanding. 

Ginny sighed. How was she to explain that everything that only just before had borne the weight of a three hundred pound hippogriff was now bare, freed of all burdens? A milky light fell through the kitchen window. She had downed a pot of tea but had been too restless to eat her porridge. 

“Mum, it’s fine,” she said and grabbed her luggage. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Dipping her hand into the flowerpot, she went up to the fireplace and threw the glittering powder into the flames.

“But dear,” protested Molly. “Where are you going?”

With a smile, Ginny stepped into the fire, which had turned emerald green.

“Knockturn Alley!”

***

There, his dark green apron slightly damp from the cauldron’s vapours stood Severus Snape in the dank backroom of his apothecary. Much like in his office at Hogwarts, the shadowy walls were lined with shelves of ingredients in glass jars, bookcases and mysterious instruments.

“Well, well Miss Weasley. Back so soon?” he drawled, stirring an extract of stinging nettle into the already cooling potion before he turned and looked at her expectantly. “Are you in need of another punishment?”

“No,” said Ginny. 

A content smile played around her lips and something in him shifted, seemed suddenly less tense.

“But I would like one, sir. As a reward?” 

His brows rose in amusement.

“Saucy witch! It so happens I have just finished concocting this sensitising oil for your friend Miss Granger. Perhaps we should ensure that it indeed ensnares the senses?”

“That seems prudent, sir.” 

Ginny shivered, partly from the lust his silky voice raised in her, partly from fearful anticipation. 

“Get undressed,” he ordered.

She went very white and pink, her mouth open, she could feel her heart beating through the soft fabric of her copen blue dress. Firewhisky notwithstanding she had never before sought a substance to bewitch her mind and body. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she set to work on unfastening the tiny pearl buttons along the back and finally shrugged off the garment.

“My, my… no bra? So your perky little tits have a lovely bounce when you walk?” he sneered as she blushed, knowing he had her sussed. “Hand me your knickers!”

Hurriedly, she dragged them down her thighs and over her knee-highs before she stepped out of them. He put them in the pocket of his dark, crisp trousers. As if by instinct she reached back and touched her arse, feeling the faint tenderness from yesterday’s spanking, wishing she could have another.

"Oh, Ginny. So eager for more already? One might think you liked to mix your pain with pleasure." He reached behind him, grabbing a small crystal vial in his hand. The fluid within with a soft, glowing pink, almost feminine in its appearance. Ginny giggled, wondering if her arse was that colour even now.

"Is something funny?" he asked sharply, though his eyes twinkled in the soft light of the backroom.

"No, sir," she whispered. Her palms went a little sweaty, and she ran them down the tops of her thighs.

"Nervous?" he asked darkly.

"Maybe a little," she admitted, shivering.

"You should be." He uncorked the vial and waved it under her nose. "What do you smell?"

She inhaled the complex scent, knowing what it probably was but wanting to be able to discern the ingredients of the potion just the same.

"Liquorice," she said, sure of the first answer as well as the second.

"What else?" he asked, gazing down with a penetrating stare.

"Peppermint oil," she replied, licking her lips as she thought of her favourite candy.

"Anything else?"

"Musk, and …" she trailed off, truly puzzled with the last ingredient. She remembered what Hermione had naughtily asked for – a sensitising oil with aniseed, stinging nettle and peppermint. But there was a deeper, dangerously erotic scent underneath the others that she could not place. 

"Ohhh, poor Ginny," he said, smirking as he withdrew the vial away from her. "Too bad you don't know what I added to it, just for fun. Why don't we put a little on you? Perhaps the sensation on your skin will trigger your memory better than the scent."

"I think that’s just the idea, sir," she whispered, bringing all of her Gryffindor courage with her as she flashed him a challenging smile.

At her brazenness he snorted a brief, mocking laugh. There was a thrill in it, knowing he wouldn’t suffer her impertinence. She wanted to be taken firmly in hand and for him to train her to his pleasure.

Much like the oil, her nipples were a soft pink. Tweaking the buds between finger and thumb, her eyes widened ever so slightly as he fondled her, then leaned down, suckling one peak, then the other. She was afire, yet she wanted more heat. A whimper lodged in her throat as he cupped her right breast, dipped his finger into the vial then brought it back to her nipple and rubbed the oil into her skin.

Ginny gasped. The heat was instant, the stinging and burning and throbbing mixed with dull pain made her eyes water. He kissed her temple gently before coating his calloused fingertips again with the infernal potion. 

“Is it exquisite agony, little lioness?” he whispered hot against her ear. “Does your cunt quiver and ache?” 

“Yes,” she choked. “Oh yes, sir.”

As she spread her thighs, he made no rejoinder but a low murmur of approval. Pleasure and pain jolted through her, his oily finger tracing her slit. The potion’s fire mingled with her wetness. Again he drew another drop from the vial and rubbed the oil into her nub with insistent pressure. Eyes closed, she sobbed lightly.

“Do pay attention, Ginny!” he rasped and slapped her cheek. “Now do you know the final ingredient?”

"Cayenne pepper," she whimpered.

"The hottest I could find," he said solemnly. "Just a drop of its distilled oil would have been enough for an entire vat of oil, but for you, I thought ten to this single vial would be a more even number."

She gasped as blood rushed to every surface he touched with the slippery oil. It hurt - the pain was indeed exquisite. A light sheen of sweat covered her forehead as she gave into the pleasure. Her nipple, her cunt, and her clit felt alive with every intense wave of ecstasy that seared through her.

"I think I missed a spot," he said gravely. 

"Yes, sir. My other nipple," she groaned.

"Not quite," he said reflectively. "Turn around and spread your legs. Wide."

She did so without hesitation, though she was nervous about his next plan of action.

"So pretty and pink still," he said, touching her arse with his untreated finger. "Do you like having a pink arse of my making?"

"Oh, yes sir," she panted, almost unable to speak from the power of the oil on her body.

"Hmmmm," he said. "Let's see what else we can make so prettily pink. Bend over and spread your lovely arse cheeks."

Her breath came out in stilted gasps as she did so – it exposed her oil treated pussy to the air, which apparently heightened the effect.

"Has anyone ever had you there before?"

"Never sir," she cried, her voice squeaking.

She heard him put the vial down on the case behind them. He touched the tight little hole of her arse, and suddenly the fire hit her there too. It was almost more than she could stand: the pain, the arousal, and the smirking wizard behind her who slapped her arse smartly before dragging her back against him.

"Now… let's have some fun."

Shakily, her hand reached around her back, her index finger’s broken nail briefly catching on the black fabric of his trousers as she felt along the shiny buttons that begged to be undone. He was hard. She felt it. 

Yet he didn’t say a word, still almost breathing regularly despite her touch. Lost in thought, wondering what he had meant, she brought her hand back to her chest and gently stroked her untreated nipple a bit.

“What do you mean, sir?” she finally asked, a hint of insecurity in her voice.

Perhaps if she pressed her soft bottom back against his hard cock, would that please him? Ginny sighed, then gasped a little again. The oil, she realised, had layers, nuances to it, which brought on a new wave of throbbing and burning. It embodied everything Severus cherished about potion making, subtle science and exact art.

“I will have to see to a financial matter at Gringotts this morning,” he watched with detached humour her growing confusion and distress. “Put your clothes back on.”

“You… you want me to tend to the shop in your absence?”

Finally she thought she had caught on. It was a relief, even though she was sure he would forbid her to touch herself while he was gone.

“As it is there is hardly any passing trade to speak of. I would have you accompany me,” he said soberly. “During our outing you will touch yourself discreetly. And if you can, you may come.” 

Ginny sighed in relief. She could make herself come, she was sure of that.

“If I can, I may come… really, sir?”

“By my word.”

Absently, she continued to play with the untreated candy pink nub as she looked at the pile of clothes on the floor. 

"Did you mean to miss this spot, sir?" she asked, tweaking the nub and twisting, wanting to make it sing as the other one did.

"I meant it," he said shortly, shrugging as he shooed her seeking hand away. 

He grabbed the hard flesh between his fingers and pulled so sharply that she lurched ahead a step. He twisted and turned the trapped skin, drawing it out and making it as hard as the fire bitten nipple he'd oiled. 

Smirking, he slapped the tip of her breast rapidly until she lost count of the delicious stings that bit her skin.

"So, which do you find you prefer, little girl? The fire from the oil, or the fire from my hands?"

She gulped, wanting to say his hands, but as her pussy throbbed dangerously close to orgasm, she really couldn't say which she liked best anymore.

"Both," she groaned, arching her back as he slapped her belly and hips.

"Honesty is something I can appreciate," he said smoothly. 

He picked up her outer robe only, which was more like a short summer wrap than an actual covering robe. The white cotton material only reached mid-thigh, after all, showing off the white knee socks and her smooth, yet freckled, kneecap to perfection.

"You will only wear this," he said, leering at her now rosy skin. "Put on your shoes."

Ginny did as she was told, buttoning the dreadfully few buttons of the white robe before she slipped into the Oxfords that sat next to the pile of her actual clothes. She eyed her dress longingly, but felt the power of being female each time her breath caused her breasts to jiggle provocatively under the dangerously thin fabric. She never appreciated the rasp of her breasts against cotton before – the sensation was divine. 

She was also more aware than ever of the breeze on her pussy that licked the flames of the oil, as well as lit the flame of her darker desires – thoughts she only had when she was fucking herself with her little fingers, bringing herself to the thin, unsatisfying climaxes of before. She thought of people watching, of flashing skin and eyes to strangers as she walked down the street.

She caught his eye, and despite his aura of power and dominance, she saw the tenderness and protection there, as well as his unbridled lust. This man could teach her things about her body. He could make her body cry out with the overwhelming waves she craved.

"Do you have any questions, before we take our leave?"

While he carefully put the vial away and untied his apron, she watched him intently then shook her head.

“No, sir. I don’t think so,” said Ginny, suppressing the urge to bite her bottom lip in nervous excitement, she squared her shoulders.

Her first year at Hogwarts, she had been so shy. Eyes cast down, long flaming hair falling forward, hiding her face. Then the incident with the diary had happened and Hermione had told her to be more herself around people. Well, Harry really. Not that it mattered anymore. Relief washed over her for having finally ended this farce the night before. It was not in her nature to be either timid or cautious, so she wondered what had taken her so long.

In the front room of the shop, Ginny looked through the plate-glass door. There was nothing to be seen but the rain-splotched façade of Borgin and Burkes across the street. In the dim November morning light, the mixture of falling snow and rain looked like horizontal hatch marks across its darkness.

He looked her up and down then pointed his wand at her. “Impervius!”

The spell would repel the water from her thin white robes. She sighed, feeling relieved despite her desire to be more exposed.

“I suppose you are disappointed, little lioness,” he conjectured. “Now I do want you soaking wet but I said to be discreet about it, did I not?”

They stepped outside, he warded the door and she began to shiver. It was cold in the alley and she started to worry that she would not please him. But ignorance, she decided, was only shameful when not remedied. 

“Sir,” said Ginny as bravely and confidently as she could. “Would you teach me?”

He uttered a mocking little laugh from the back of his throat. Even at Hogwarts when he had been a professor, not many people had asked him for instruction.

“Teach you what?” he sneered. “How a proper young witch such as yourself ought to play with herself in public?”

She nodded eagerly. He looked at her as if he had to consider for a moment.

“Very well,” he finally conceded and started towards Diagon Alley.


	2. Titillation

Ginny followed, hurrying along. It took her three steps to every one of his long strides to keep up. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting warm, since the oil was doing more than enough to keep her body from freezing in the chill of the late autumn air. 

She felt like cursing herself for wearing such a skimpy outfit today, just the light blue dress that made her fair, freckled skin look like fresh cream sprinkled with nutmeg, and the robes… they were her favourite after all. And they forever more would be, after the activities of today passed, that she was very sure of.

He led her into the alleyway next to Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. His hands went to her waist as he pulled her against him. The desire he had for her was undeniably hard against her back as he stroked her skin through the white fabric of her robes. 

"Look up," he said, pointing to the building across the street. 

It was a brothel, and the only one left on Knockturn Alley after the end of the War. She wanted to grimace in distaste for such an institution, but ever eager to please and learn from him, she looked up as asked. 

The windows were opened slightly on the second floor and above to air out the musky scent of sex, or so she supposed. But the windows weren't covered with heavy drapes as she thought they would, or should, be. The only protection between them and the outside world were gauzy, filmy sheers that peek-a-booed the inner rooms, as well as the people in them, to the outside world.

"Third floor, second window to the left," he murmured, stroking her breasts absently.

"Someone could see you touching me so intimately, sir," she said, wanting to sound indignant.

"Let them," he sneered, pinching the skin on her waist before he crudely ran his hands up to her shoulders. "What happens on this end of the road stays here. It is the unwritten rule of the alley. You could walk down the street starkers and not have to worry about your Mummy finding out."

She gasped and nodded, now very excited. "Then touch me, sir!"

"Only after you look up," he said, putting his hands on her temples and forcing her head up to look at the third floor. 

She let her eyes drift to the second window to the left. There was a woman there, standing in the window and looking out into the snowy street. She was touching herself, hands running over her breasts, her soft round belly, and down to her unshaved quim. No surface was untouched as she explored every crevice of her body in obvious joyful delight.

"Merciful Morgana," Ginny whispered, suddenly feeling the oil painfully activate as her body responded to the scene in front of her. 

Her pussy felt like it was on fire, as did her arsehole and the one dammed nipple he insisted on coating.

"Does she turn you on?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted as she began to press her legs together to make the painful pleasure there bloom even more.

It was curious really, she had seen women naked before. In the dorms at Hogwarts, in the showers at the Holyhead Harpies Clubhouse. Perhaps she had also glanced a bit longer than would be considered decent at Fleur or Hermione once or twice. So she wondered why this would be different. Surely it wasn’t the woman as such or her actions. After all, they were only natural.

Ginny’s brow creased in concentration. The delicious burning sensation from the oil made it hard to think. Humid air wafted against her skin as he ran his hands under her robes and kneaded her bottom. Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs as the pressure built between her thighs. But no, think… she had to think for she sensed that there was a lesson there.

“No, not her,” she corrected her previous assessment. “It’s just watching… feels like being let into a secret world, given a magical lens that unfogs and makes you see something not everyone can or is allowed to.”

A finger tipped her chin up, turned her gaze back to him.

“A clear rationale,” he approved with a sober nod. “Now answer this and be sure about it, would you prefer watching or being watched?”

Oh, all these hard questions! His hands still clasping her burning arse, her legs pressing together, the muscles in her cunt clenching tight and softening again. Maybe she shouldn’t have had all that tea for breakfast! She blushed yet recognised this fact as another reason for her uncomfortable pleasure.

“Being watched,” she asserted breathlessly. 

His eyebrows arched in enquiry. Since he had just praised her for being rational, she had to think quickly, make sense of it all.

“I want to be seen,” she finally admitted. “Not hide behind others anymore.”

He accepted her answer with a curt nod but his dark eyes held a certain sparkle. He bent forward, his lips gently touching her temple.

“You’re a wicked little witch meant for wicked things,” he said silkily and a bit cruelly yet it sounded like praise.

Then he took her arm and led her back into the alley, up towards the intersection where the imposing marble building of Gringotts towered over the neighbouring shops.

“We shall go inside now and I will give you instructions which you will follow precisely while you wait for me to conduct my business,” he said in the same voice he had once used in the Potions classroom. “If you’re a good girl and make yourself come, I’ll treat you to Pumpkin Pasties at Sugarplum’s Sweet Shop afterwards.” 

Dazed and feverish, Ginny followed Severus into the bank of the wizarding world.


	3. Revelations

She hadn't been there in years she realised, not since her days in school when her parents scraped the coffers to find enough money for expenses. She had a vault, somewhere in there, which was slowly building a savings. The thought made her smile through the building sensations of pain mixed with the pressure from her bladder, all blended with her secret knowledge that she was bare and unfettered underneath her robe in this stuffy, formal place.

Once they were through the gilded door, Ginny was overtaken by the actual heat from the bank – it felt like a sauna. He guided her to the back corner, steamy heat licking the oil between her legs, sending searing sensations through her that made her eyes shut so that she could bear it better. 

"I want your eyes open, Ginny," he said.

She complied, despite the difficulty. She could only squint into his glinting black eyes, and for the first time since they began this game six months ago, she saw genuine, deep concern for her there. He gripped her chin in his fingers.

"If it really is too much, I can reverse some of the sensations. I added certain spells to it so that the effects could be shut off if the user couldn't… handle it," he said, fingers squeezing too hard at first then relaxing to caress her face.

She couldn't help but be a little affronted. She was Ginny Weasley after all. She could ‘handle’ anything.

She told him as much, and for a minute she thought he would laugh, though he didn't that first day.

"Fine, you cheeky, strong little lioness," he said, gazing down at her with pride. "You will stand here, to the side, as I discuss some of my transactions with the goblins. You aren't necessarily visible to all eyes, but you can be seen here if people glance over – which they aren't wont to do, unless distracted."

"Easing me into it, are you?" she asked. Did she sound hopeful? She hoped it only came across as an innocent question.

"Perhaps," he admitted. "But know this. Someone will be watching your every action… so you will learn the pleasure of being watched in a public place."

"Sounds -" she started, hissing as she became wet from arousal, causing the oil to sting worse. She cleared her throat and fought to control her breath. "Sounds like you've thought this out completely."

"The only thing I've been able to do since this began is think, little girl," he said, discreetly spanking her arse.

She bit her lip, almost drawing blood, as the spank made the oil on her arse explode with heat.

"What are my instructions?" she whispered, unable to make her voice as strong as she wanted.

He smirked. "They are simple, really. There is a hole in the pocket of your robes – don't check it. It's there," he said, frowning when she put her hand in her pocket. "I want you to rub that tiny nub of yours, always remembering to cover it with your own slick to make sure the sensations are perfect."

She nodded, swallowing noisily.

"You can put your other arm over your chest – to the casual observer you might just look like you are leaning against the wall, waiting for your lover to complete his business. But you will be pinching and teasing your unoiled nipple the whole time, as you watch the patrons come and go."

She nodded again, uncomfortable now as she realised just how full her bladder really was.

"May I go to the ladies first, sir?" she asked.

He shook his head and chuckled so darkly she thought his voice could belong to the devil himself. 

"All good things to those who wait, Miss Weasley," he answered, pressing a firm hand to her abdomen, making the pressure even worse. "Use all things to your pleasure: the people around you here, the oils I placed on your innocent skin, your cunning little hands that will send you to release, and yes, even that."

He touched her nose with the tip of his finger and turned to the main section of the bank.

"Will you be long, sir?" she asked as he walked away.

"Long enough," he answered, before he accepted his space in line.

Ginny watched him walk away, suddenly feeling very lonely until she remembered his promise to watch her. Reassured, she held her breath and waited four, five heartbeats before she exhaled, ready to follow his orders.

From her little corner she could see almost the entire Main Hall – white marble floors, ebony desks, sparkling lustres, burnished bronze fixtures. Splendour so vast, it assaulted her senses. Her hand wandered into her pocket and sure enough found the hole that allowed her access to the roaring fire between her thighs. Solemnly and with great relish, she began to touch herself.

Her sensitive flesh still stung and burnt as she rubbed gently, then more vigorously. The building lubrication was surely a deliberate side effect of the oil, and she was in awe of his ingenuity. Clenching and unclenching the muscles in her cunt, Ginny moaned, she couldn’t help it. A part of her bladder seemed to push against her clit from the inside with every contraction. Delicious pressure added to that of her small fingers. Still, it was unexpectedly frightening to feel the warm wetness coat her hand and dampen her thighs.

Cautiously she felt for the little hole below her nub. A sudden searing sensation shot through her; she really needed to go to the loo. The urgency almost brought tears to her eyes. But it wasn’t an option and he had called her brave after all. So she eased one finger into her pussy, sighing as her muscles softened to let it in. She added another, began to thrust firmly in and out.

The friction was amazing but really all she wanted was for him to fuck her. And hopefully he would later. Maybe even… ever so carefully she probed her puckered hole with her ring finger. 

She looked for him in the crowd, trying to catch his eye. It wasn’t a terribly busy morning at Gringotts. Finally she found him at a desk, somewhere between her little corner and the silver doors to the Entrance Hall. Waiting for the goblin bank teller to return, he briefly looked over his shoulder and their eyes met.

A smirk played around his lips and she remembered his order to look at the people around her. Witches, wizards, goblins… nobody she knew and she wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. For a brief moment, she made eye contact with one of the goblins that flanked the doors in red and gold uniforms. He turned up his pointed nose at her and sniffed in disgust. Her cheeks burning, she looked away. But oh, she was really close now.

Ginny moaned softly and pinched, rolled, tucked her neglected nipple through the thin white fabric of her robes. Her cunt was wet with desire, and the rest of her skin glistened with sweat. Fingers sliding in and out, she could feel the cry that couldn’t leave her throat and so bounced back into her lungs, reached all the way to her heart, and shattered there painfully, inaudibly.

Spent, she collapsed against the wall, not awfully steady on her feet. Slowly the world came back into focus and with it the sharp pain in her bladder. So she sought his gaze, her eyes pleading. She really hoped he’d let her go to the loo now. From across the hall he gave a curt nod. She was in luck.

A few minutes later on her way back from the luxurious bathroom, she noticed for the first time the costly censers in the Main Hall from which rose heavy clouds of different-coloured mist.

“Goblins have a highly developed sense of smell. The smoke neutralises the overwhelming human scent,” said Severus as he gently touched her shoulder from behind. “I can’t imagine it was very successful in your case though.”

“Oh,” said Ginny and blushed.

“I reckon, you earned yourself a treat, lioness.” 

She swallowed hard, “Thank you, sir.”

Of course he was talking about the sweets but she really wished he meant his cock. Gently, he took her hand in his and guided her towards the exit, his black robes billowing out in the cold draught blowing in from outside.

“Snape!” A sharp familiar voice barked to their left. “I see you can take the bat out of the dungeon, but the dungeon not out of the bat!”

Now quite a few things happened at once: Ginny gasped, Severus tried to pull his hand away, she would not let him as she was well aware of where he was vulnerable, how he still had a self-destructive streak. But she’d prove that he could trust her. And he wouldn’t want her to cause a scene that would land them in the gossip column of ‘Witch Weekly’, so she couldn’t storm and rage like she wanted to.

“That’s original, Harry!” she bit back a snort instead.

After all, he had made that same joke before. Well almost. A few weeks ago on a group date, Harry had called Hermione’s girlfriend a slapper. Delivering that line at the sight of Astoria, who had worn a tight green leather mini dress with a silver zip fastener in the back, which he had eyed disapprovingly. The evening had gone for a Burton afterwards, Harry’s outburst making even Ron and Lavender uncomfortable.

“Ginny!” Harry hissed now, seemingly surprised as if he had only just noticed that she was there.

"Harry," she hissed back, mocking his indignant glance. "Why are you here?"

"It's Gringotts, Gin. I guess I must have stopped for lunch," he said nastily as he eyed her skimpy attire. "What are you doing here dressed like a tarty schoolgirl?"

"You will do extremely well not to speak to her in that manner, Potter," Severus said, his voice so cold it made Ginny pale. 

She squeezed his hand to let her know she was okay, but he seemed to want no assurance.

"And what concern is it of yours, ‘sir’?" Harry asked as sarcastically as he would have in a Potions class when he was still a boy. 

He still was a boy, Ginny supposed, as she looked from Harry back to Severus, comparing not only the difference in height and breadth, but in demeanour and composure. 

Harry was still slight and small, even with the years of good food and Quidditch matches he never caught up with the other boys. Underneath the air of cocky confidence that he'd developed since the end of the War, ultimately he still carried himself like a lost little boy, looking for approval. 

Severus, on the other hand was tall and lean, and though his shoulders were not very broad really, you'd never know it by the way he walked, as though he were the master of every domain he tread upon. 

And that true confidence showed now when Severus growled, "She is my only concern, you pathetic little idiot. It's sad that you didn't know how to treat her the way she deserves."

"Treat her like what? Like a common whore?" Harry asked, his voice now getting loud enough that passersby glanced their way. "I can smell her cunt from here. Dressing like a schoolgirl for your Daddy, are you? Look who's pathetic. I've a mind to talk to your Mum about this, Ginny."

Ginny glanced at Severus and saw him make a grab for his wand with his free hand. She shook her head, rapidly, squeezing his ice cold hand in her warm one, wanting to pass some of her fire to him.

"He's not worth it, Severus," she whispered, tugging his hand to lead him away. He took a few steps away with her reluctantly.

"That's right, ‘Severus’. Have a thing for redheads, don't you?" Harry sneered, the sweet boy she'd once known completely gone by the time he finished speaking.

That's when she punched him, square in the nose, in front of Gringotts bank, before Severus could even ready his wand. 

Ginny’s breath caught in her chest, the chill of evaporating tears on her cheeks almost painful. Again she had been quick to anger, had lost control of her emotions and in the process exposed Severus to what he desired least – unwanted attention from judgmental ninnies. Why, she could just imagine Rita Skeeter hiding in the bushes, the whole incident making it into the evening edition of the ‘Daily Prophet’. 

“Ah yes,” Severus finally addressed Harry and his last accusation, examining his fingernails with a bored look. “And as such, I could not possibly discern between them. With your supreme command of Legilimency penetrating my mind, you have surely seen that I am, for example, equally enamoured with each of Miss Weasley’s brothers.”

The relief she felt, hearing his calm mockery made her burden lighter. Perhaps not all was lost. Meanwhile Harry was staggering to his feet.

“You and your abnormally large nose –,” started Harry, his voice lowered to a furious rasp.

But Severus interrupted him and drawled, “– must take Miss Weasley and her impulsive sweetness of temper and be off to lunch now, I’m afraid. Speaking of noses, you might want to have yours looked at. Good day, Potter.”

In a gallant gesture he offered his arm. Still shaking a little, she placed her hand on his sleeve and let him guide her across the street and down Diagon Alley.


	4. Flash

“I take it, he did not do well with the breakup?” he said once they were out of earshot. 

“Obviously,” she replied dryly, then added gnawing at her bottom lip. “I am sorry. I know how much you value your privacy…”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I have never done anything to discourage my bad reputation. Perhaps I have invited it before. Now I am rather concerned, however, what this will do to you, Ginny.”

"Don't worry about me, sir," she said. "I've spent the last years being concerned with nothing less than being the perfect girlfriend to that… arsehole," she finished, surprising herself with the coarse words that left her mouth. 

But weren't they true? With every step she had taken since the months following the final battle of the War, her only thought was Harry. Making sure Harry never got too angry, making sure she always looked perfect when she was dangled on his arm for parties at the Ministry, making sure she was never a step ahead of him in any respect – always did she have to be a step behind so that he could continue to shine more brightly than she. She was tired of being forced to hide behind him. 

She looked up at Severus when her words triggered one of his rare, genuine laughs – making her laugh in turn, just as she was overtaken with deep shivers that chilled her to the bone. 

He pulled her into the alleyway by Sugarplum's Sweet Shop and wrapped her in the warmth of his black, billowing robes. The oil had worn off now, or else he had deactivated it after all. Regardless, as soon as she realised that she had suddenly become cold there he was, covering her with his warmth, protecting her from the damp, chilly air around them.

"The Thief’s Downfall," he said, his lips moving over her bright hair as he rubbed his now warm hands over her arms. "It cancelled the Impervius charm. They've extended it to the lobby now after that stunt Potter and company pulled before the end of the War. I forgot… forgive me?" he asked, casting spells to dry her wet robes and warm her once more.

"Of course I do," she whispered, willing herself not to lean into his chest and put her arms around him. 

"You may do exactly as you wish, Ginny," he said, his voice soft. 

She looked up into his black, glittering eyes – so calm, yet hiding emotion he dare not speak, as they always had. She sighed and leaned against him, listening to the thrum of his heart against her ear, feeling the strong arms tighten around her as though he wanted their bodies to melt together.

A flash of light from the street pulled her out of her reverie.

For a moment she indulged in the false hope that this had to be some child setting off Wildfired Whizz-Bangs and she huddled up against Severus. Of course she knew better. Reluctantly, she let go of him, not quite ready to face this newest development. Looking up, she expected to find curiously rigid curls and jewelled spectacles, instead she saw Dennis Creevey fumbling with his brother’s camera.

“Mr. Creevey,” Severus said with a quiet menace in his voice and the blond boy flinched. “You cannot be labouring under the delusion that my and Miss Weasley’s private moments would make appropriate additions to your family album, can you?”

The boy flinched some more. “I – ahm… no, Professor Snape!” 

“I thought not,” he continued slyly, not correcting Creevey that the title no longer applied. “So which illustrious publication are you working for?”

“Wi-witch Weekly, sir. I-I’m an apprentice with Rita Skeeter,” Dennis sputtered.

“How very splendid,” replied Severus derisively. “And is there anything the readers of your magazine would be just dying to know?”

“Oh… I-I don’t… ahm.” The boy stammered, trying to come up with a good question. “Are you planning on doing any shopping today, Professor Snape, sir?”

“Ah, a very good question, Mr. Creevey!” said Severus and seemed to give his answer some serious thought. “I am well-nigh resolved to obtain some Pumpkin Pasties, quite possibly some Cauldron Cakes and Raspberry Lamingtons for Miss Weasley and myself.”

“At… at Sugarplum’s?”

“Indeed. They have the best selection, don’t you think?”

Dennis nodded, dumbfounded. Ginny stifled a giggle. Not being a student on the receiving end of his snide remarks anymore, it was fascinating to watch this game of cat and mouse albeit a bit cruel.

“If there is nothing else…”

It was really a statement not a question. The boy shook his head then as they had almost made it past him, suddenly blurted, “Ginny, will the Harpies defeat the Montrose Magpies on Saturday?”

“Oh yes,” said Ginny sweetly. “I believe Gwenog will catch the snitch before the first hour is up.”

From the corner of her eye, she watched Severus who had pointed his wand at Dennis’s camera stealthily.

“Luci Exponunt,” he muttered under his breath.

A few white sparks flew up, startling the young reporter and melting the 35mm film. Now Ginny giggled freely as they entered Sugarplum’s Sweet Shop.


	5. Cream

The scent of sugar, fruit, and chocolate hit Ginny’s nose as they walked into the warm, cosy store that had once been such a luxurious treat when she was little. She looked at the sweets showcased in glass cases and for a minute wanted to press her hands to them like she was five years old again. 

“You too?” he asked, grabbing her hand and moving them both closer to the counter.

“Can’t help it, sir. There are some things that just never get out of your system.” 

She looked at the Pumpkin Pasties, her favourite, and sighed happily as Severus ordered one for her and a Raspberry Lamington for himself. They sat at a table in the corner as their order was being prepared.

“Did I please you, sir – before?” she asked, smoothing out the too short robes so that they would cover her knees better. 

“You always please me, Ginny,” he said, discreetly moving his hand to touch her thigh. 

She squirmed happily. His hands were as hot as the oil had been, and it was a heat she desired more than anything else she could remember, even more than the Pumpkin Pasty that the waitress sat before her along with their other treats.

“May I feed you?” he asked softly.

She looked up, surprised at such an intimate request. Her heart leapt into her throat as she nodded her head, too afraid to speak.

He took her fork and cut into the tender pastry and smooth pumpkin centre easily. Just a small bite, a teasing little morsel, found its way onto the fork as he placed it into her waiting mouth. 

It was delicious, of course, spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, and dusted with perfectly sweet powdered sugar. Just having that small bite in her mouth let her appreciate every flavour there, savour them, as she waited hungrily for another bite.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at her mouth. 

“What?” she said after she swallowed.

“You have some sugar on your lip,” he said, licking his lips.

“Ohhh,” she said, reaching up to brush her mouth with the back of her hand.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her, and shook his head. 

“Allow me,” he said, as his hand travelled to the back of her neck, bringing her to him for a kiss.

After placing soft kisses and nibbles at her sugar coated bottom lip, his tongue lazily entangled with hers for a moment. She tasted the custard there and the raspberry juice from his treat, wondering at how it strangely but perfectly mixed with the cinnamon taste of her own. It was sweet, creamy, spicy and generally overwhelming. Ginny felt light-headed, wishing he’d pull her onto his lap but really they couldn’t get carried away, not here at the teashop anyway. Of course he knew it too and finally pulled away, however reluctantly.

He took another bite of his Raspberry Lamington. Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips then she worried her lower lip with her teeth. She hoped that would give him all manner of delicious ideas of things he’d enjoy her doing with her tongue and teeth. Perhaps they could take some of the sweet treats with them. 

“Have you ever eaten jam and cream without a spoon?” she asked innocently. “I wonder what it’s like.”

He swallowed hard and then the wrong way as they heard another familiar voice.

“Ah, Severus! Thought I’d find you here with the sweet things. I was at your shop but it was closed. A bit early in the day, no?” remarked Pomona Sprout good-humouredly, if a trifle coarsely. “Then again, you’re a free man now, not bound by classroom hours. Lucky you!”

Severus tried to get his cough under control.

“Good morning, Professor Sprout!” Ginny said politely.

“Oh, hello Miss Weasley!” The dumpy little witch turned around and smiled. “What a nice surprise. How’s the Quidditch going? Ronalda will want to know.”

“It’s good,” Ginny smiled back. “We won’t deny the Magpies a fair crack of the whip on Saturday but they don’t stand a chance. If you ever want tickets –”

“We will take you up on that. Thank you!” she replied warmly and patted Severus on the back. “Are you quite alright, Severus?”

“Never better.” He was breathing evenly again. “You were looking for me, Pomona?”

“Indeed. Brought you a few bottles of bubotuber pus, some dried mandrake root and Venomous Tentacula leaves for your shop,” she said. “We had a good harvest.”

She planted a large wicker basket on the table.

“I appreciate it,” he replied honestly, then added with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “You could have sent Longbottom, or was he too scared to come see me?”

“Now, now… there isn’t much that scares young Longbottom anymore since he cut off the head of that snake,” she smiled, evading the question. “Actually, I wanted to see you about mixing a fertiliser. We need to plant broadleaf plantain for Divination class and dragon dung won’t do.”

“I see,” he nodded thoughtfully. “A clover-comfrey-charcoal mixture perhaps?”

“Sounds like just the thing. Can you get that to me by Friday?”

“I think I can manage that,” he said, as he examined the contents of the basket before placing it on the floor next to him.

“I thought you might,” Pomona said. 

She looked at Severus and Ginny together as though she finally realised that they were sitting at the same table, and Ginny saw that she was examining her lips, full already from only kissing a bit. Pomona glanced back at Severus and smiled.

“Is there a reason for your unusually kind demeanour today, Severus – other than the basket of rare plants on the floor?” she asked, grinning.

“Pomona,” he said tightly.

The witch grinned more widely as she brushed a little spot of dirt off of her robes. 

“Of course, it’s none of my business, really. But if what I think is true is indeed true, I guess I should say how happy I am for you and one of my favourite former students,” she said, winking at Ginny.

Ginny winked back and grinned as Pomona blew her a kiss and left the shop.

“I always did like Professor Sprout,” Ginny said, slipping her hand back into his.

“She is a very open minded and tolerant witch,” Severus said, squeezing her hand. He looked up at her and his lips twitched slightly. “Now, what was this about eating jam and cream with no spoon?”

Ginny found she couldn’t even work up a blush when she said, “Well, it’s just that I’ve heard that sometimes it can be rather delicious to… play a little with sweets. For fun.”

He shook his head and fed her another bite of her Pumpkin Pasty. She chewed and licked her lips provocatively as the treat melted in her hot mouth.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had fun, Ginny. What if I’ve forgotten how?” he said as he took a bite of his treat, using her fork instead of his own.

“We can figure it out together, just like we figured out how best to use the oil,” she said, remembering the tea and pouring them both a cup. “How do you take yours? I hate to say that I don’t know.”

“Milk and two sugars,” he said.

“Creamy and sweet,” she said, giggling. “I take mine the same way.”

Ginny passed him his cup and watched him bring the delicate cup to his mouth. It was an odd thing, to be able to do such mundane things with him like go to the bank and stop for tea and cake. She was sad for a minute that it had taken her this long to work up the courage to finally break free. 

“A knut for your thoughts,” he said, readying another bite for her.

“I’m just glad we are finally here,” she said, leaving her mouth open as he placed another forkful in her mouth.

“Here, in this teashop,” he said, leaning to her and almost touching her ear when he whispered, “with your knickers in one pocket and a vial of oil in the other?”

Sitting with her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the table, she finally swallowed, dipped her finger in the custard on his pastry and held it out to him. 

“That is just the cream on top of this little tart,” she said and blushed a bit at her bold words.

With a dark chuckle he grabbed her wrist, brought her hand to his mouth and watched her face as he licked the custard off her finger. She moaned and shifted in her chair. If she ever wanted to win, she knew she’d have to get a lot better at these little games of dare. Right now, losing didn’t seem so bad though.

“You wouldn’t want to get anything on your pretty robe,” he mused then added in a commanding tone. “Push it up, I want your bare arse on the seat.”

As she rushed to comply, she knew her nipples had to show through the robe, especially now as they were hardening under his stern gaze. The wooden surface was cool and hard against her soft, warm flesh. 

“It’s a pity I have not yet given you a spanking today,” he said.

With a hopeful sigh, Ginny bit her bottom lip, slid forward in her seat and spread her legs a little. The holiday-themed tablecloth was long enough to hide a variety of transgressions.

“I’m really wet, sir,” she admitted and blushed again.

“Now, Ginny,” he said, amused at her discomfort. “I said you could make yourself come while we are out.”

Frustrated, she rocked slightly back and forth. More than anything, she wanted his hand between her legs. Unsure how to entice him, she decided on a direct approach.

“Sir, would you help me out, please?” she asked politely.

After a moment of thoughtful consideration, he answered, “Since you asked so nicely. But I won’t be doing all the work, little lioness. And you will keep up a pleasant conversation with me as is only proper for a good young witch who has been taken out for tea and cakes.”

“Of course,” she nodded seriously. “Thank you, sir.”

He covered her hand with his and took them between her damp thighs. 

“I like how you keep yourself,” he said, pressing her palm into the small patch of neatly trimmed hair while sliding their middle and index fingers along her smooth nether lips. “Wax?”

“Yes,” Ginny shivered with delight. 

"And is that something you do yourself, or do you go to a shop to have it done to you?" he asked.

With his free hand, he dipped his own finger in the creamy pumpkin filling of her Pasty and held it in front of her lips. The other hand was moving her fingers over her sex, like a puppet master controlling a marionette.

"I go to a shop," she whispered hoarsely.

She took the finger in her mouth and sucked the still warm pumpkin filling from his finger, swirling her tongue around it in the same way her fingers were swirling around her clit. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he slowly withdrew the finger, gently biting on the tip before it left her mouth completely. She bit her lip coyly when his mouth went a little slack before he regained his composure.

"And what kind of shop does this sort of service? Surely not one in our world," he said, moving her hand slightly faster over her nub before releasing it. 

She frowned before she realised that his fingers were moving to the waiting, damp centre of her desire.

"Yes," she moaned quietly as a calloused finger slid slowly in.

"What was that, lioness? I don't think it was an answer," he said as the finger was withdrawn.

She could have screamed the answer, but maintained her composure and instead replied, "A Muggle establishment not far from the entrance to Diagon Alley."

The finger returned and began to stroke its way in again. She sighed with relief.

"And what do they do when they provide this service?" he asked as the finger slid in to the first knuckle.

She bit her lip and started to rub slightly faster.

"They take me to a room in the back, and ask me to remove my clothes from the waist down," she said breathily.

"Oh," he said, nodding his head and sliding the finger in further, working it in and out ever so slightly faster. "I can see why you have to go to the Muggle world in order to have this done. Nice witches aren't brought up to have strangers look at their sweet little pussies."

"Maybe I'm not as nice as you think I am, sir," she said sweetly, managing to take a sip of tea with her free hand when the door chimed, signalling a new customer was in the shop.

With his free hand he took another bite of his raspberry treat, licking his lips so obscenely to capture the custard on his lips that Ginny could only imagine that tongue in other places, namely the place on her body that a second finger was sliding into. He took a sip of tea as the waitress passed by their table and smiled.

Ginny smiled tightly back.

“Maybe,” he seemed to ponder this. “Why did you do it?”

Her nipples were pebbled, straining and chafing against her robe with every breath. Under his guidance she pressed the heel of her hand to her soft mound, teasing her nub as she rubbed over the swollen flesh.

“The wax is hot but not too much, the pain is sharp and wonderful, then the skin is so pink and worried but also so soft after they rub in some cooling lotion,” she confessed.

His fingers moved faster in her wet cunt now, his hand still on the back of hers, which rubbed and pressed harder against her clit. The friction made her blood burn.

“And,” her lips opened in a breathy moan. “I hoped it would please you, sir.”

“I see,” he said, his smirk in contrast to the benevolent tone of his voice. “Since you did it to please me, you’re still a nice witch.” Then he lowered his voice a bit. “We’ll have to keep up with your spankings though, so you’ll remain so.”

“Oh yes,” she panted, then implored shakily. “Snog me again?”

Again his lips twitched, something between a smile and a sneer. But he granted her request, leaned down, met her lips, her tongue with his. When he finally pulled away, she felt even more light-headed than before.

Now he curled his fingers slightly and rocked his hand. Ginny let out a stifled sob, the muscles in her pussy now desperately milking his fingers. Her cheeks were flushed, her robe stuck to the sweaty skin of her breastbone. She was still trembling when he withdrew his fingers, brought them to his mouth and licked them clean. Indulgently, he smiled at her bemused look.

“And it does please me,” he said, taking another sip of sweet tea. “As it will please me to lick, suckle and spank your bare little cunt until it’s as pink as your arse.”

Her hand still stroked her clit, albeit less frantically, while she rocked back and forth on the chair again. Amazed that the tiny motions, the sound of his silky voice and his shameless promises brought another wave of heat and pleasure. So he really was training her, conditioning her and she felt so fortunate and grateful.

As he went over to the counter to pay, Ginny licked the last crumb of her pastry from the corner of her mouth. Slowly, she got up and smoothed down her robe. Looking at her glistening juices coating the shiny dark wood of the chair, she blushed, pointed her wand and murmured, “Scourgify!“


	6. Six

“Oh my,” he drawled. “What am I going to do with you, Ginny?” 

She took the arm he offered, and suggested sweetly, “Take me back to yours and shag me, sir?”

"But what about practice, Ginny? Aren't you to meet the Harpies this afternoon at four o'clock?" he asked as they walked out of the shop. She noticed a small parcel in his hand and licked her lips as she wondered what might be inside.

"We won't practise in this kind of weather, sir," she said, shivering until he gathered her underneath his arm. The street was colder than it had been before, and the sky was so grey that she sensed a snowstorm was on the way. "Our captain had a bad experience during this kind of weather a few years ago – it seems a player froze to her broom while showing off a defensive move."

"But don't you have to occasionally play in weather like this?" he asked as they turned the corner into Knockturn Alley.

She nodded.

"We do. Gwenog is … she's an odd one, sir. It's probably time for her to retire," she said conspiratorially as they passed by Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos once more.

"And who would replace her, Ginny? Did you have a candidate in mind?"

She would have blushed if her skin weren't already so pink from the day's activities, as well as the biting wind sweeping around them.

"I was hoping it would be me, sir," she confided as they met their destination at his storefront.

"To promote to captain so soon would be highly unprecedented, would it not?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he waved his wand over the door, ending the wards and locking enchantments over it. The door swung open, and he ushered her inside, quickly now as big, fat flakes of snow began to fall in the street.

"It would be, but –"

He grabbed her after warding the door once more, hauling her back against his chest, as he ripped open her robes. Buttons flew across the room haphazardly, the sound of their landings pinging in the silent shop. He tossed her once beautiful white robes in the corner fireplace, and Ginny watched it burn just as she hoped to, soon, while writhing on top of him.

The fingers that had stroked her into climax now grabbed her swollen breasts, digging painfully into the softness they met. He slapped her nipples, bringing them to attention immediately.

"You do seem to like pain, don't you Ginny?" he asked, slapping her breasts again as if to show her that he could.

"Only if given by your hands, sir," she moaned.

She felt his cock against her back, already so hard and hot, twitch with her words.

"Spread your legs then," he said.

Ginny could hear the defensive sneer in his voice again – she was touching a nerve with him by giving herself over to his every whim. In order to prove herself to him even more, she opened herself to him with no further prodding, spreading her legs as wide as she was able to and stay standing.

He rubbed his fingers against her, this time without her own small hand causing any interference.

"You are so wet for me that you should be embarrassed," he said, the sneer still present.

"I'm not embarrassed, sir," she said, squeezing her pelvic muscles so that even more of her desire slowly moistened his waiting hand.

"And only I do this to you?" he asked, his voice dark and menacing.

"Yes sir," she admitted as she leaned her head against his chest and sighed.

He slapped her pussy so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

"What about now?" he asked, doing it again.

"Yes!" she moaned, rubbing her mound against his hand.

He slapped her again with one hand, the other hand firmly holding her jaw to his chest.

"And now?" he asked, slapping once more.

"Yes!" she cried, unable to help herself as her hips rotated against his hand in a parody of the act she wanted to partake in.

He slapped her for the last time – this time the hardest of them all. The tears spilled down her cheeks as she rubbed herself against him still harder, seeking relief of a different kind.

"One strike for every month you made me wait," he said, sighing as his finger sank into her and began to stroke furiously in and around her stinging flesh.

She came almost immediately, sagging against him as she screamed his name at the top of her lungs.

In the flickering firelight, shadows scurried over Severus’s face. Not a sound to be heard, except for the muffled drumming of the sleet against the small windows and plated-glass door. Ginny was still trembling a little, slowly calming when his words found their way into her mind – one strike for every month, one strike for every month. Yet there had only been five. Panicked now, Ginny tried to recall if she had missed one. 

But no, how could she. Each time his searing hand marked her body, she felt cherished and grateful and more herself than in years. And with him, she knew, there was no such thing as an oversight. Did it mean that for him the first month did not count? Or he had given up on her over the last one? 

As much as her hesitation had pained her, it must have hurt him even more. Ginny felt tears come to her eyes – tears of shame, tears of remorse. Without warning, she felt the sharp delicious sting of his hand against her cunt. She spilt those tears now, out of sheer relief, a pitiful hiccup escaped her sore throat as she felt his hand stroking her flaming hair from her face in a comforting motion.

“Stop this, Ginny!” he growled. “Or I won’t shag you.”

This new threat made her jump and she quickly swallowed her tears. With hands that shook slightly, she undid the buttons on his trousers. His cock sprang free, the shaft thick and upright. Below, still partially covered by the woollen fabric of his trousers, his balls hung heavy, swollen with seed. When Ginny licked her lips and curled her hand around him, his breath hissed between his teeth. Her grip tightened as she closed her fist over him, squeezing just a bit until drops of his moisture coated her palm and fingers. She slid his hardness through her small hand faster, making it harder and slicker.

Longingly, she looked down at his cock and gnawed at her bottom lip. But before she could kneel down, he grabbed her by the back of her hair and slapped her face with his other hand. 

“Later, little girl,” he promised, his voice low and dangerous. “First I shall shag you senseless, then lick your pretty cunt out, tuck your labia with my teeth, suck hard on your clit.”

Ginny sighed as she felt herself getting wet yet again. He pulled her over to the counter, lifted her right leg and placed it on the cool ebony plate. Steadying herself she leaned forward and gripped on the edge, pushing up her bottom, exposing her pussy between spread legs.

“Since you like my hands so much,” he sneered and delivered a hard slap to her arse.

Alternate. Repeat. Ginny held her breath and counted silently. Six. She was so relieved it was six. Then he drove two fingers into her wetness, thrust them in and out in a quick rhythm. Again Ginny counted six. Her cunt tightened. He withdrew and spanked her again. Six times. 

“I do so love the growing blush across your cheeks,” he said in a mocking tone. “Eventually I will find something that embarrasses you, my saucy little witch.”

Ginny nodded happily, feeling his cock straining at the entrance of her pussy. Finally he pushed into her and she moaned, arching her back to take him deeper inside of her.

Oh, fuck.

She was full, complete, stretched completely by the thick cock that drove into her until her arse met his thighs. How had she been able to take all of that in her and still be able to take breath? She reached her hand down low to her abdomen, almost to where they were joined and was honestly shocked she didn't feel the tip of him there.

Then he thrust, only once, slowly, letting her feel the friction as he drug his length out of her cunt, then slowly pressed back in until she was full once again.

"One," he said, gritting his teeth before he slapped her arse.

Oh, fuck.

He withdrew again, his cock rubbing against her in a way that made her wonder if she were wet at all, though she knew by the moisture that gathered at her entrance when she touched her clit that she was. Then he pushed back in, angling down so hard that she forgot to breathe as the pressure built in all the right and wrong places.

"Two," he said, sneering the word as he slapped her arse, this time so hard that the tears silently returned to leave new trails down her already salt stained cheeks.

Out again, dragging his cock head against that sensitive spot, and the pressure began to build, increasing when he slid back in, not sliding really as he roughly slammed into her, his thighs now slapping her sensitive arse, his balls just brushing against her pussy.

"Three," he groaned, slapping her again, the sting bringing her to life as the pressure increased even though he was completely still.

This time when he drug himself out, the sensation building was so intense she cried his name, pleading for him to complete it now instead of dragging it out as he did his still thickening cock. She tried to circle her fingers around her nub to make it happen faster, on her own terms, but he knew her all too well.

"Incarcerous," he snarled, and suddenly her hands were bound behind her back. He pushed back into her, sliding over the nerves that were leaping to be set loose even though he'd only thrust in and out of her a total of –

"Four." 

His hand cracked on her skin, so hard she thought she might be bruised in the morning. When she realised she didn't care, and that she wanted his hands to mark her and bruise her at his will, she flushed so hard she thought that steam might rise from her wet cheeks.

She couldn't take much more of it, she knew that when his cock slid deliciously in and out again. Her hands strained against the invisible bindings, needing relief, going mad from the need to come again, even though it was only –

"Five," he said maliciously as he slapped her arse, higher this time, his fingers curling around her hip.

Last one. Finally it would be the last one, and maybe this slow torture would end and she could come. His cock barely moved out, just a rock back of the hips as he whispered in her ear –

"Who does this to you?"

She clinched every muscle against him, desperate now for relief, for orgasm – to come!

His hands were on her breasts now, twisting the sore nipples so hard she cried out from the biting pain. And gods above, she wanted more, for him to twist harder, just a little more so that she might –

"Who does this to you?"

She bit her lip, now unable to see clearly as her vision clouded from the overwhelming lust.

"Who does this to you, Ginny?" he shouted, since she could no longer hear his insistent whispers.

"You do!" she screamed.

He thrust inside her so hard that she saw stars.

"Six."

He slapped her one last time, setting off an orgasm so intense that she collapsed against the counter, shaking and moaning as the waves of pleasure washed over her. The last thing she remembered before she passed out from the sensations were his warm hands grabbing her to him.


	7. Confessions

When she came to, she found herself wrapped in a green cashmere blanket on a bed with starched white linen. The room was sparsely furnished. Apart from the bed and a small night table, there was a fireplace in the wall opposite of the bed with built-in bookcases on each side, which were made from the same dark wood as the floorboards.

A glass of Firewhisky in one hand, he was sitting next to her, reading a leather-bound copy of Zygmunt Budge’s “Blending Dark Tinctures for Daily Torment”. Outside the sky was a dark menacing grey and the driving sleet had not let up. In the distance one could see the busy lights of Charing Cross Road. Ginny stirred and sat up.

“You’re awake,” he said. “Do you want some water or Pepper Up?”

She shook her head and took his glass.

“Water be damned,” she said defiantly and emptied the Firewhisky, tasting every barb and bite of bitterness.

“Anything to hasten your recovery, little lioness,” he mocked and refilled the glass from a pitcher on the night table. “How often have you come today?”

Heat pooling in her stomach, Ginny took another long, slow drink. 

“Four times.” 

With the Firewhisky burning in her throat, it took all her willpower not to shudder. His face was a mask of studied nonchalance as she passed the glass to him and he drank.

“Let’s make that six before tea,” he said and placed the glass and his book on the night table.

Between comment and command, his words were certainly not a suggestion. Thinking about the violence with which he had made her come before, Ginny trembled. She was unsure if she could take much more, and a bit frightened by how much she was at his mercy, by how she would never dream of saying no to him. Of course, she realised, her body was already betraying her, a new wetness flooding her cunt at the sound of his silky smooth voice. She clamped her thighs shut and wriggled them together.

“Sir,” she said and looked up at him. “I would like to make you come too.”

“How very touching and polite,” he snorted, pulling back the blanket that covered her. “I promised you some licking and sucking, if I recall?”

Blushing, Ginny nodded and he slid a bit lower on the bed, rested his head against the pillow.

“Straddle me,” he ordered her. “Move up and kneel over my mouth.”

Shakily she followed his instructions, placed her legs on either side of him and held on to the headboard with sweaty hands.

He ran his hands along the backside of her thighs, then up the swell of her arse. As another shiver rolled through her, he kneaded her bottom and pulled her cheeks apart.

“Oh Ginny,” he sneered. “You’re dripping again.”

As his tongue drove into her honeyed cove, Ginny sighed. As he licked upward to her clit, she moaned. And when he suckled and lapped at the proud little nub, she cried out, her thighs tautening around his head.

“Merlin –“ Ginny sobbed. 

This had never felt so good. Firm licks of his velvet tongue along her slit. A sharp tuck of his teeth on her nether lips. His hot mouth sucking on her pleasure bead. 

Little tremors ran through her and she was ever so thankful for his firm hands gripping into the skin of her bottom, when his tongue further spread her wetness to the rim of her puckered hole. Then a thumb or finger slipped into her arse, invading her pleasantly with its thickness. Sliding out, it was substituted by his tongue before he thrust the finger into her again, hard and fast. 

Finally his tongue was back on her clit, teasing and playing with it relentlessly. Ginny grasped the headboard tightly as she felt her climax building and rolling from her centre. Her cunt clenched, spasmed and flooded. She trembled above him and sobbed loudly as she came in intense radiating waves.

“So sweet and responsive,” he taunted.

His breath brushed warmly against her wet centre, as he gave it one last lick, then he slapped her arse. 

“You can choose our next activity. Make it count!”

Ginny's head was spinning from the sips of Firewhisky as well as the orgasm that was just now beginning to abate fully. She hummed in frustration as she tried to think of what she really wanted to do with him, for him …

For him.

"Can I suck your cock for a little while before my sixth, sir? Please," she said, trying not to beg but wanting to finally taste him properly.

"Now, how can I refuse a request like that?" he said darkly. "Do you like to suckle a man's cock, lioness?"

"Yes," she said boldly.

His lips twitched and he raised an eyebrow as though giving a challenge. "In the future, I'll endeavour to keep your tiny mouth and throat full."

Despite herself, a blush crept over her cheeks, but she nodded vigorously. "I should like that very much.”

"Let me up so I can attend to a few things before we begin again."

She shook as she moved off of his face and sat next to him on the crisp sheets. She realised now that he was still dressed, though now only in his white linen shirt and black trousers, as he walked into what must have been an en suite. The sound of running water came from the room, confirming her suspicions. 

She lay down, wrapping herself in the blanket as she waited for him to return, enjoying the soft luxury of the cashmere that was such a contrast the rest of the furnishings. 

Her eyes scanned the room, the full bookcases drawing her attention. The water was still running, so she tiptoed out of the bed and over to the books, draping the blanket around her like a robe.

The volumes were thick, leather-bound tomes with names written in an ancient hand. She tilted her head and read some of the titles: “Night Blooming Plants for Healing Potions”, “Twelfth Century Curses for Dark Uses”, “The Kama Sutra” –

Ginny's eyes popped back to the last one with shock. Even this book had come into the general knowledge of their rather old fashioned world. She'd remembered hearing Fred and George snickering at night while perusing a smuggled copy at the Burrow saying things like, "I didn't know a body could bend that way."

Her hands trembled as she removed the book from the shelf, a page falling open as though it had often been pondered over – the spine broken just enough that it probably would permanently open to just this page.

Ginny blushed when she saw the painting of the man and woman. The woman's knees were brought up almost to her shoulders with her legs spread wide, with her pussy completely laid bare to the man kneeling in front of her. She thought about what it must feel like to be so physically open. Even though Severus had had a bird's eye view of her just minutes before, this seemed like a different kind of intimacy, almost similar to them drinking from the same glass. It seemed –

"Find something interesting?" he asked.

She started and slammed the book shut, though she knew he was standing behind her and had seen everything. She turned around, her mouth going completely dry at the sight in front of her. 

He was nude now, of course. She'd had no expectations of him to look like a Quidditch player under his heavy coat and trousers, yet his slender body had a power to it that could not be denied. His Dark Mark was almost as pale as the rest of his skin, and so vague it could have just been another scar on his body. The scars on his neck she'd expected, though they weren't as bad as she thought they'd be – only a thin line that crossed his throat like an evil smile and two ropy gashes to the side that stood out red and angry. Her eyes travelled lower, to the black hair below his navel that trailed down to his heavy, erect cock and pendulous balls behind it. 

"I asked you a question Ginny. Show me what excited you so much," he commanded, his voice so firm that she was compelled to do as he wished without thought. 

She gave him the book, opening it to the page in question, once again blushing deeply as he looked from the page, then back to her.

"Are you embarrassed?" he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"No, sir," she said, biting her lip a little while thinking of how to give words to how she felt.

"Then what is it?" 

She sighed and looked at the picture again. 

"It just seems rather intimate, sir, to be spread as open as that to the man kneeling between your legs. No barriers and nothing to hide behind," she said, her voice a little breathy.

"I would imagine it is," he said as he placed the book back into its spot.

"Have you never done it before?" she asked before she could stop herself. 

She looked up and hoped she looked as contrite as she felt.

He shrugged. "Can't say I have ever done the 'Wife of Indra', though the idea fascinates me as much as it does you."

She hoped that they might change that today… after she attended to him. Dropping the blanket between them, she sank to her knees and grabbed his cock in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and kissing the beads of moisture from the tip before taking him in her mouth.

The texture of his skin reminded her distinctly of the cashmere blanket under her knees. He was soft – deliciously soft – on the surface, though he was so hard underneath she wondered if he would burst. He tasted of salt and sage, and something else that could really only be described as 'male' – a dark flavour that she sucked at, trying to burn it into her memory.

She would never be able to take all of him in. Even though she had figured out how to deep throat a man while she was with another dark haired 'him', Severus would be entirely too much for her small mouth and throat. But, she would be able to please him very nicely, she decided, as she swirled her tongue around him and began to move her wet mouth over his length.

He grabbed her head with a sharp hiss, guiding her with his insistent fingers to show her the rhythm he liked, while words spilled out of his normally restrained mouth – words that sometimes only sounded like inarticulate moans and grumbles, other times spoken words of encouragement like "there", "fuck!", and "yes".

His words made her squirm her legs together. Soon her thighs became slick with moisture as his earthier comments sent shock waves straight to her core. She placed a hand in between, rubbing her clit while she continued to work him.

On the instinct that he might also like a little pain mixed with his pleasure, she lightly ran her teeth over his skin, suckling the tip hard when a little gush of salty flavour landed on her lips. She did it again, receiving the same response, which she greedily lapped up - she did adore a salty treat, after all.

"Enough!" he roared, pulling her away from his swelling cock and slapping her cheek, roughly.

She sat back on her heels, still teasing her clit as the sting from his hand gently subsided. His eyes were dangerous, and very dark. 

"I want to be inside one of your tight, sweet holes when I come so that I can mark you with something more than my hands," he sneered, every word as carefully stated as he would have in a lecture. Despite that control, he slapped her face again. "Choose your fate, Ginny, or it will be chosen for you."

Ginny’s cunt was soaking, and her heart skipped a beat in thrilled nervousness as she suggestively touched her bottom. In the flickering firelight, his lip twitched. It was impossible to tell what kind of smile he wore.

He pulled her to her feet and kept a firm grip on her arm as he guided her back to bed. Then he bent his head and captured her lips with his mouth. Opening eagerly for his tongue, she moaned softly as it rubbed against hers. His hands stroked down her back and over her arse.

“Do you believe I will hurt you?”

At once she shook her head. She had been silly again. After all, he would never do anything to her that she did not crave or could not take.

“Good.” 

He pushed her back on the bed, put her legs over his shoulders and drove his cock into her cunt as she squealed in surprise.

“Quiet,” he ordered harshly and slapped her face. “I shall take your arse later.”

The thick head of his cock stretched, massaged and rubbed inside of her. She gasped, arching her back to take more. Sweat dampened his black hair, glistened on his pale face. His breathing heavy but controlled, he kept his thrusts measured and shallow, holding her climax from her. 

“Tell me,” he grunted, driving deeper. “Are you on the potion, little girl?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, frustrated, before her voice dropped to a coy whisper. “Will you ever take me off, sir?”

A nervous flutter in her stomach, her body tensed with anxiety, as he went very still. She should have never asked. Even though this had eaten away at her, even though this was the main reason next to her shameful cowardice as to why she had made him wait six whole months.

Severus raised an eyebrow, calmly amused. “Oh, I imagine so.”

Relief washed over her. Until now she had not known how much she needed him to answer. 

“Thank you, sir!” she sobbed in earnest now, shaking.

He pushed into her again, fucked her with hard, deep, copious thrusts.

“Of course then you will be in heat, lioness,” he drawled. “Always wanting to rut until you can’t come anymore.”

Ginny blushed heavily, her cunt getting wetter, hotter, slicker still. It was confusing how his degrading words got her going. Her head tossed frantically. She decided not to question it. Simply remembering to breathe was taking all of her conscious effort at the moment.

“Please –“ she whimpered, her nipples so hard they ached, her breasts heavy and shaking with the impact of his hips slapping against hers.

“I may give you an elixir,” he panted, his breath hot against her ear. “That will help you catch quickly.” 

He wouldn’t do it now, she was sure, but something about the prospect made her ache with longing.

“Oh Merlin,” she gasped in grateful awe. “Thank you, sir!”

Her heart burning like a stitch in her chest, Ginny came violently.

Severus chuckled darkly and rode her harder, his cock swelling and throbbing until he finally spilled inside her with a loud groan. When he rolled off of her, Ginny snuggled against him, her small hand resting on his chest.

“You’re a brilliant shag,” she said, planting little kisses down the length of his scarred neck.

He laughed, deep and hearty this time, without mockery. “Oh Ginny…”

Her lips travelled to his face, and she took a minute to pull back and stare into the eyes of this man she'd grown to care so deeply for.


	8. Scent

Six months of waiting, after the previous year of accidental meetings in little shops and stores. Those accidental meetings became the purposeful meetings of new, odd friends who seemed to enjoy each other's company more than they expected they could. 

Then, six months ago, their first kiss - just a chance catching of mouths as he'd bent down to kiss her cheek and she'd turned her head the wrong way. It had stirred something in her she'd never felt with the boys she'd been with in school, or with the ego-driven man she'd tried to make a life with.

She'd denied him, and though he did derive pleasure in her "suffering" for her time of uncertainty and spinelessness, she couldn't help but feel that she had truly hurt him. He'd never let her know – she was sure of that. But how to make him feel how much she cared for him… how much she'd grown to love him? 

She couldn't say the words out loud – it wasn't time yet. It was still too new, and she didn't want him to think her still a silly schoolgirl in love for the first time. She knew what love was, having experienced it a little with Harry before everything went pear shaped with their relationship just as soon as it began.

This man before her, with hard black eyes that were now soft with pleasure, wanted a life with her, apparently wanted children with her, and would do anything that would give her pleasure. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to fight back tears again. It had annoyed him when she'd cried earlier, and she didn't want to spoil their afternoon again with her shame and irritation.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. 

She shook her head, trying to shake her thoughts away in the process. 

"I was just thinking that I could probably use a shower or bath," she said. 

It was the truth – she felt sticky now from the oils on her body mixed with both of their sweat… and his come.

He nodded. 

"I would benefit from that as well. I haven't been this vigorous in…" he trailed off, catching her eyes and chewing his cheek. "A long time I suppose. I don't have a bath, though if it pleased you I could have some things Transfigured."

She smiled softly and touched his face. "Only if it would please you too, sir."

"Oh, Ginny. Haven't you figured out that my pleasure is an extension of yours?" he said, chuckling again in the kind way of before. The dominating side of him had been appeased for now, and he was just Severus again.

He untangled himself from her lithe limbs and got out of bed. She scrambled behind him, but he stopped her with a raise of his hand. She froze immediately.

"Lay down, little lioness," he said, darker now and her female bits tingled at the brisk return of this side of him. "I marked you before, as I said I would, and I want to see the fruits of my restraint and efforts over the past half year. And I want you to see it too."

He walked into the bathroom and returned with a small mirror. 

"Spread your legs as wide as you can, knees up as high as you can manage," he commanded. 

Ginny nodded and immediately complied, bringing her knees up to almost her breasts and spreading her legs as wide as she could. Years of Quidditch had made her as flexible as a Muggle ballerina, as it was wont to do with the faster female players.

He chewed his lip slightly as he looked down at her slit. She could feel what he wanted to see dripping hotly onto the sheets underneath her. Sighing, he sank to his knees and smelled her there too, his hot breath making her shiver.

"What a beautiful sight - your tight little cunt overflowing with my release, unable to take all of it in." He smirked and licked his lips. "But you can take all of me, can't you, you dirty little girl?

"Yes sir," she whispered, feeling a small gush from her pussy as his words turned on every pleasure receptor there.

"Would you like to see?" he asked, voice even darker now as his eyes flashed.

"Yes sir," she repeated as heat rushed to her cheeks. 

He sat next to her and held her up as he angled the mirror between her legs. She blushed completely scarlet as she saw his thick, profuse ejaculate leaking out of her, smearing on her thighs, and a drying spot just above her meticulously waxed pussy. Her thinner, clearer fluids were mixed with his, making a complete and abundant mess that continued to stain his perfect, white sheets. Her folds were red and swollen with the activities of the day, and a small bruise was forming just on the inside of her thigh.

"Are you embarrassed at the sight of your well pleased cunt?" he asked taking the mirror away and setting it down next to them.

"A bit," she admitted, biting her lip and smiling. "I've never looked at it so up close before."

"A day of firsts," he said provocatively as he took her hand and led her to the bathroom. "But there is no need to be embarrassed by that sight, Ginny. No need at all."

A wave of his hand and the candles around the bathroom were lit, casting a soft glow on the Spartan furnishings. It was utilitarian and functional, as the rest of his rooms were, save for a shower that looked as though it were made for two. He turned on the taps, feeling the temperature of the water with his hand.

"Warm or hot?" he asked, adjusting the taps slightly.

"Hot," she said, knowing her muscles would need it.

"Hot it is," he said, making one final adjustment. 

He motioned for her to get inside the dark tiled room that was quickly filling with steam. She did so, gratefully, and quickly found the wonderfully hot water. Dipping her head under it, she made happy little sighing noises as the stream hit her back and breasts, paradoxically relaxing her and stimulating her once more. His strong, wiry arms wrapped around her waist, and he dipped his dark head under the spray with her.

_Heaven._

This was heaven, having this man's warm, wet body wrapped closely to her, now rubbing a fragrant herbal soap over her skin with a rough flannel that made her skin deliciously pink and sensitive. Too sensitive, she decided, when he ran the cloth between her legs and warmth immediately spread over her newly cleaned skin.

She writhed as he carefully cleaned her long hair with the same soap, just the tips of his fingers digging into her scalp bringing little waves of happy pleasure through her body.  
He was done too fast, she realised when the sprays of water washed the last of the suds from her body. She groaned a little when his hands moved away. A fresh cloth was pressed into her hands, along with a small bottle of creamy liquid.

"Your turn."

Tall and gleaming, in the confines of the shower, a warm rain cascaded over his naked form like rivulets of translucent silver. Ginny looked at him with a shy curiosity, while she worked up a lather of liquid soap between her palms. Greasy black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin – attributes that had often found their way into ridicule behind his back during her Hogwarts days. It made her wonder now if she had ever thought along those lines, had Harry not been so vocal in his insults.

Carefully, Ginny put her small hands on his chest, let them roam over his shoulders, down his arms and elegant hands. She felt his muscles losing some of their tension and she hummed, satisfied. He turned around and she continued her ablutions. Even more so than on the front, his back bore the signs of the torture his former master had joyfully inflicted. Scarred stripes left by curses and hexes, some faded to silver lines, others still faintly violet ridges standing out against the touch of her fingertips. 

“Hardly the handsome, nice, young man you should be with,” he said, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Ginny rubbed a thick lather of soap into the tense muscles of his back and he groaned slightly.

“I don’t know,” she teased. “I finally am with the ugly, unpleasant, old man I want.”

Severus turned around and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded vigorously.

He seemed to ponder this, then his face relaxed, slowly accepting it. At least so she hoped. He picked up the bottle and massaged some of its contents into his hair. While she wasn’t short, reaching up she would have had to balance on her toes. Hard to do on the slippery white porcelain. 

The soapsuds ran down over Severus’s scarred skin in a tangle of rivulets. Ginny inhaled the fragrance greedily through her nose. It made her light-headed, reminding her of all the times throughout the years that he was so close to her and she had, in secret and slightly ashamed, indulged in his scent. Like she did this morning with the sensitising oil, she wanted to discern the ingredients.

“Clove bud, tobacco leaf, sandalwood… perhaps a touch of incense,” she declared in triumph. “Woody and spicy… covers the gag reflex and the stench of the lab.”

“You always were a bright spark,” he smirked. 

At the compliment, she smiled, took the flannel and lightly dabbed at the soapy water running over his neck and the fiery-red scar it bore in token of battle. He flinched, and then looked at her in silence until a tight smile crept briefly upon his face. Ginny was relieved. Evidently, he had seen that there was no pity in her eyes, only admiration and a desire to know and understand him. 

Thoroughly cleaned, they got out of the shower. Ginny’s small feet sank into a soft, deep green rug. She wriggled her toes as he put a drying charm over her, then over himself. Like running errands this morning, this was such a normal yet oddly personal activity. A day of firsts indeed.

He looked at her from under knitted eyebrows, and then said more softly seeing Ginny’s pallor, “I should go and find some Bruise Removal Paste and Pepper Up for you.”

“Maybe the Pepper Up,” she conceded.

For as content as she felt, there was also a certain amount of exhaustion. The day had taken a lot out of her physically and mentally. The high of her intense orgasms and the warmth of his caring protectiveness stood in contrast to the low ache she had felt in her heart when she realised that part of her previous reluctance was based on a grave misjudgement. He had said he wanted her. But she never imagined he’d want a child.

“No Bruise Removal Paste?” His stern voice interrupted her reverie. “There is no need for bravery.”

“No,” she agreed. “It’s not that. But I like the marks as a reminder.”

For a moment he looked at her, apparently assessing her answer. 

“Very well,” he said. “You will tell me if and when it is too much.”

Ginny nodded, gnawing at her bottom lip, while she watched him donning his robe. Black and Egyptian cotton. No surprise there. 

“I know your ingrained Gryffindor obstinacy makes it hard to obey me,” he started.

She giggled, interrupting him. “But you will use your inherent Slytherin cunning to outwit me.”

“Probably,” he snorted then continued in a more serious tone. “Nevertheless, I want you to ask questions when you need to. And there are everyday decisions you can make on your own.”

Warmed by his reassurance, Ginny rejoined with soft gravity, “I understand, sir.”

“Good,” he nodded curtly.

He stepped into the small connecting room between the bath and the bedroom where he kept his wardrobe and came back with a short silk wrapper, the shade of violets.

“I know you like purple,” he said, helping her into the robe.

“I do.” Ginny was touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, sir.”

It sank in slowly as she went back to his bedroom and leaned back into the pillows. He had bought a piece of clothing for her. And not just any, but one that signified that she had a place in his home. Even when she had almost given up on herself, he had believed that she would eventually show courage and be with him.


	9. Courage

A sound, first soft then adamant and louder, brought Ginny back from her thoughts. It was an owl that tapped against the window. Ginny got up and opened it. The exhausted bird tumbled gracelessly into the room. 

“There, there,” she murmured, closing the window. “That they’d send you out in this weather, Errol.”

Carefully, she set the ancient owl on the mantle of the fireplace and disentangled the parchment from its claw.

“They’ve sent me a Howler,” said Ginny faintly as Severus entered the room, a tea tray with a pot of Earl Grey and a plate of cucumber and watercress sandwiches in hand.

“Open it,” he nodded amused at the letter that started smoking at the corners. “Or it’ll only get worse.”

Ginny’s lower lip pushed into a momentary pout as she sucked her teeth, thinking. But it couldn’t be helped. 

“Fine.”

With shaking hands, she slit the envelope open. A roar of sound shook the room as the card slid from her hands, formed something that resembled a little paper mouth with very sharp teeth and hovered over her. Then her mother’s yells came a thousand times louder than usual.

“GINEVRA WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU RUN OFF LIKE THAT? AND SHACKING UP WITH SEVERUS SNAPE IN KNOCKTURN ALLEY! YOU MUST BE OFF YOUR TROLLEY, YOUNG LADY! POOR HARRY IS CROSS AS TWO STICKS! AND SO ARE YOUR FATHER AND I AFTER EVERYTHING HE HAS TOLD US! YOU WILL RETURN STRAIGHT HOME AT ONCE OR WE WILL COME AND GET YOU!”

There was a small pause, then the voice added more calmly, “Oh, and dear, bring Errol back with you. You know how these deliveries exhaust him.”

The red envelope burst into flames and curled into ashes. Wondering whether she ought to feel defeated or defiant, Ginny sat down next to Severus on the bed.

"What are you thinking?" he said, scooting marginally closer to her and placing a warm hand on her thigh. 

"That I'm surprised it took her this long to do it, sir," she said, feeling a little defeated for now. "After leaving like I did this morning, and then seeing Harry… I'm honestly amazed Errol didn't have the timing to interrupt us while we were shagging."

He seemed to consider this before he gave her a slight smile. "I may have warded the building against unwanted visitors."

Ginny looked up at him and smirked. "So that's why you've had no customers."

"That and the fact that I'm never open on a Tuesday. I usually spend the day brewing," he said mildly as he poured them both a cup of tea.

"Two –"

"Sugars and milk, I remember," he said, passing her the cup.

"Thank you." 

She took a sip of the well-brewed tea, trying to think about what to do next. 

It would be easy to hide here with Severus – he could and probably would put a Fidelius charm on the shop if she asked him to. 

But no, that wouldn't do, would it? She'd never been one to back down from her fears. If there was one thing anyone could say about her, since she was little, was that she had enough nerve to make anything happen she wanted. And she wanted this snarky, impossible man sitting next to her who was now calmly sipping his tea while looking at her out of the corner of his eye, a little more nervously than she would have suspected. 

His hair had cascaded in front of his eyes, though whether on purpose or by accident she wasn't sure. But it was an act that she remembered from school – he was trying to hide something behind his curtain of now lovely, clean black hair. 

She brushed the stray strands out of the way, making sure his ebony black eyes fully met her cinnamon brown ones. 

"I'm not going back, not like they want me to, sir," she said, with a bright and confident voice.

"I didn't think you would," he said with a shake of his head.

She took a deep breath, and with every ounce of Gryffindor courage she had, asked, "Would it be okay if I never went back to stay, after today?"

Severus's eyes darted back down to hers. But he raised an eyebrow, lazily, and replied, "Why would you want to do a thing like that? It would only make your mother's words true."

"Would it be terrible if they were true, sir?" she asked softy.

"No," he admitted, setting down his cup of tea on his nightstand. "I find that after seeing you here, the thought of not is… unsettling."

"To me as well, after being here," she said, putting her cup next to his. She lay back down on the bed, so close to him that their hips touched, the heat from their bodies melding despite their robes.

"Would you like me to go with you, to help you pick up your things?" he asked, taking her hand in his and squeezing it softly.

She nodded, then nodded, and then continued to nod until he started laughing, a deep, rich sound that reminded her of the Dark Chocolate Cauldrons sold at Honeydukes.

"I won't fight your battles for you, Ginny. You will have to do this yourself."

"I know that, sir," she sighed. "I wouldn't expect you to. But I want you there." She looked up at him and smiled brightly when she said, "As a reminder of what I'm fighting for."

His lips twitched, but his face was otherwise unreadable when he leaned down to kiss her. He tasted of sweet, hot tea and the watercress sandwich he must have had a bite of on the way back to the room. She leaned in, chasing the flavours with her tongue as he brought his hands to her face, caressing her jaw and neck before sliding down to the dipping neckline of her robe. He slid a scorching hot hand in, pinching her nipple until her breath caught in her throat before pulling out again. 

The hands now untied her robe, the silky fabric leaving her body as soft as a whisper. His lips slid down from her neck to her chest, kissing her nipples lightly, then tenderly suckling them before moving to her belly. Now the hands were pushing her down to the bed and spreading her legs before him.

"Are you too sore?" Severus whispered as he barely kissed the top of her sex.

"Never," she said, wanting him to be as close to her as possible. "Can we try – "

"Yes," he said, removing his robe quickly as he joined her on the bed once more. 

He kneeled in front of her and pushed her knees up as high as he could. They were flush to her chest when he slowly opened them, until she was almost spread eagle before him.

Her breath caught as he looked at her pussy. He wasn't hiding anything now – the expression in his face was wonder and excitement. And she wasn't embarrassed, as she thought she would be so exposed to his scrutiny. She realised she was excited in every way as wet heat once again filled her.

"Tell me if the pressure is too much," he said as he slowly thrust the tip of his cock in her.

Ginny nodded and moaned when he pressed ahead, until he was fully seated within her. His chest was level with hers, his hips fused into hers as though they were one person. And he was so deep inside her that she could feel him everywhere as he began to rock his hips, thrusting back and forth while the pressure grew and built.

"So deep, sir," she managed to say, groaning as he slid even deeper when her legs dropped another inch.

He nodded haltingly as though he couldn't speak, though he never took his eyes from her for a second. 

There was no room to slide a hand against her clit, but she realised she didn't need it as the closeness caused him to rub that spot until the stars began to bloom behind her eyes once more. She tried to close them, to escape into the pleasure that was to come, but he grabbed her face roughly and kept her gaze only on him as she exploded underneath him – her hands grabbing wildly at the scars on his back as the tremors wracked her body.

He came shortly thereafter, his eyes never leaving hers as he grunted and moaned out his release.

"I – " she said, hesitating over the words.

"I know," he murmured, still not finished as his heat continued to shoot so deep within her she thought she'd never feel cold again. "I do too, you foolish girl."

Tears slid down her face as he pulled out and rested his head on her belly, their pants finally slowing into even, regular breaths. She ran her hands through his coarse strands, wondering how she'd ever doubted being here with him.

She would have been the happiest she'd ever been in her life… except for the task ahead of her.

It was time to face Molly Weasley.


	10. Confrontation

"We should probably go, now," she said, sometime later after the lovely glow had finally left her face. "Or she will be after me."

"So she will," he said, reluctantly leaving the cradle of her thighs and moving to stand next to the bed. He grabbed his robe and said, "Stay here, little lioness."

Ginny heard the taps in the bathroom run briefly before he came back into the room, flannel and Bruise Removal Paste in hand. She started to protest, but he raised his hand, silencing her.

"No buts, Ginny. With what you will be facing you need to feel as well as you can," he said as he rubbed the wet cloth between her thighs, cleaning the last trace of him from her. Long, soothing fingers applied the paste to her sore inner thighs and to the folds of flesh between, giving her instant relief from the slight pain she felt there.

"Better?" he asked when he was done.

She nodded and sighed with relief. "Better."

He summoned her bag to his side and sorted through it. 

"It's still sleeting," he said peering out the window, "and you've packed clothes only fit for an autumn day," he finished, sneering at her. 

"Yes, sir," she said, trying to sound remorseful.

"Why?"

"Because I was hoping not to leave this very room, sir?" she said as innocently as possible.

"Saucy, irresponsible minx!" he said, tutting lightly. "What will I ever do with you?

"Whatever you wish?" she asked.

He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "I'll make you regret those words."

She shivered in response.

"Nevertheless, if I let you outside in these clothes, Molly and Arthur will have the Aurors after me," he said, walking to his wardrobe once more and pulling out a dark green cashmere jumper along with a pair of denims that looked as though she would have picked them for herself.

She stared up at him in wonder.

"You were so sure of me?" she asked as she took the clothes from his hands.

He smirked and turned back to retrieve his clothes.

"No knickers or bra underneath, Ginny," he said as he pulled out a white shirt and black trousers. 

She giggled silently as they dressed. Her shoes and socks were under the bed, and were suitable enough for the weather, she decided as she pulled them on. When she looked up, Severus was in full regalia, looking very much like the Potions Master from her school memories once more. He passed her a dark travelling cloak that fell to her feet when she put it on, though she knew she would be appreciative of its warmth.

He put a hand on her arm. 

"Ready?" he asked as he removed his wand.

"Ready," she said holding her arm out for Errol, who landed just as they softly popped from sight.

They were at the Burrow now. Errol gratefully flew towards the house, dodging gusts of wind that blew treacherously. The weather here was no better than on Knockturn Alley – there must have been an inch of sleet on the ground already, making things look absurdly white as though the grounds had been dusted with snow.

Severus opened the little gate that led to the house and ushered her in, placing a hand on her back as they walked to the crooked house she loved so dearly. She smiled up at him happily as he led her down the walk, whispering naughty things in her ear about what they would do later when they returned to his shop.

Ginny smelled the faint aroma of Muggle cigarettes to the side of the house and knew her father must be worried sick to be indulging in the habit her mother hated so fiercely. 

"Dad?" she called. She saw his slightly balding head poke out by the side of the house, spectacles as lopsided as ever as he Vanished the cigarette between his fingers guiltily. 

"Ginny," he said, walking to her and giving her a squeeze. "I'm glad you came."

She squeezed him back and sighed unhappily as she pulled away and returned to Severus's side.

"Severus," Arthur said more formally, nodding his head at him.

"Arthur," he said, his voice measured and calm.

"For the record, I don't have any qualm with your relationship," Arthur said, holding out his hand for Severus to shake. "I think it could have been handled better, but if Ginny is happy, then that's all I can ask for."

Severus expression was blank as he shook Arthur's hand. "Thank you, Arthur."

"However," Arthur said, looking back to Ginny with concern. "Your mother is another matter."

"I know," she said.

"Best to bear it until she's done and can see the smile on your face I saw earlier," he said, tweaking her cheek. "I haven't seen you smile like that since before the War."

"I think it's been that long since I have."

"And we have you to thank?" Arthur said, eyes narrowing slightly on Severus, who nodded briskly. "Then that's enough for me."

"Thank you, Dad," she said, hugging him tightly to her again.

"We'll wait out here for you," he said before releasing her. "Be brave."

Ginny looked up at Severus, who bent down and kissed her forehead chastely. 

"You are brave, little lioness," he whispered before he pulled away.

She nodded and walked to the front door. The second her hand settled on the knob, it flew open widely, revealing a very angry redheaded witch.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!! You have a lot of explaining to do!"

With a sigh, Ginny followed her mother into the kitchen, which was warm and cosy and smelled faintly of yeast. Tuesday afternoon tea was cream buns, and a few leftover crumbs were still scattered next to the old tea set on the long oak table. 

If she said anything before her mother could vent her frustrations, Ginny knew Molly’d go spare. So she shrugged off her cloak and sat down in one of the mismatched chairs, braving herself for the verbal onslaught.

Agitatedly, her mother paced up and down. Her striped crochet dress was made of dusty rose, coral and citrine wool, and she wore a flowered pinny over it with her wand sticking dangerously out of a pocket. Probably ready to hex Ginny or Severus into next week.

“Floo’ed off! No explanation! Parading around Diagon Alley half-naked – could have caught a cold – out of my mind with worry – did you care? – never as long as I’ve lived… and playing poor Harry false! Hasn’t that boy had enough hardship?”

Hands on her hips, Molly came to stand in front of her daughter and shot Ginny a challenging look.

“I might have underestimated the weather when I left here this morning,” said Ginny carefully and bit her lip. 

No way was she going to admit that she had lost the dress sometime before her adventure at Gringotts. Conversely she felt very much like reminding her mother that everyone had suffered hardship during the War. But she did neither. Instead Ginny fidgeted a bit, then ran her fingers over the soft green cashmere of her jumper. It was soothing.

“I see you have changed,” remarked Molly stiffly at the sight of her new clothes before she continued her lamentations. “I don’t understand what has happened? And with Severus Snape of all people! You’d best hope I don’t put bars on your window, Ginny Weasley!”

Ginny winced, taking a sharp breath through her teeth. “I’m old enough, mum!”

“Old enough to know better!” Molly was in a blaze of indignation. “He’s a Slytherin!”

Perhaps Ginny should have mentioned that over the decades there had been Prewetts sorted into Slytherin too. Instead she settled for –

“Hermione’s girlfriend is a Slytherin.”

Her mother shifted uncomfortably and her lips twitched a bit. These sort of tender relationships were something their slightly backward wizarding world was only slowly getting used to. 

“Why yes, dear, but Astoria Greengrass is a slip of witch while Severus Snape is a powerful dark wizard,” Molly huffed. 

Ginny had to bite back a smile. Her mother had obviously forced herself not to call Severus old. 

“You always said I’m a strong light witch, the first Weasley girl born in several generations! Isn’t that true any longer?” she replied hotly.

“Of course it is!” Molly heaved a sigh at the defiant sparkle in her daughter’s eyes. “But what about poor Harry? I hoped you two were getting married. My, he was about to give you his mother’s ring. Ginny, dear – I do not understand. What has changed?”

“Mum, you’re throwing a complete nervy strop!” said Ginny, annoyed and shuddered a bit at the thought of how closely she had escaped Harry’s proposal. “I– things changed.”

But she wasn’t going to get out of this without a proper explanation. Her mother looked at her expectantly. It wasn’t that she hadn’t given it some thought before but it was hard to pinpoint when things had gone down the drain. After the final battle, the future had looked bright and for a time it was until Harry had grown more and more restless and discontent. Perhaps it was boredom. Auror training not quenching his thirst for adventure. 

Ginny thought back to before the War when she had told Harry, that she knew he would never be satisfied until he had killed Voldemort. She had been sad then but found in the three years after the War that apparently killing Voldemort hadn’t been enough at all and it made her sadder still. Especially since it led to so much frustration and anger in Harry that she sometimes wondered if blaming his previous flares of rage on the Horcrux lodged in his head, hadn’t been too easy.

“A few months ago, Harry’s aunt came by Grimmauld Place. She apologised for treating Harry so abysmally over the years,” Ginny started slowly and continued as Molly nodded encouragingly. “Harry totally flew off the handle and Transfigured her into a flower pot. Then his cousin came looking for his mum and he sent him away with a fiver and a pat on the back.”

“He… he gave him Muggle money?” asked Molly faintly. 

Ginny snorted. As if a coin purse of galleons had been a more adequate recompense. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that this was a way to deal with our more irritating relatives these days,” Ginny said sarcastically. “Why, Dad should have Transfigured Narcissa Malfoy into a jill years ago.”

“Ginny!” her mother cried out, piqued. “Still, did it have to be–” she winced slightly. “Did it have to be Severus? He is… I mean there are so many nice wizards out there!”

Again, Ginny bit back a giggle. Her mother was a warm and tolerant witch, and there were few things that threw her off. But it was clear that as much as she tried to hide it, she was still a bit frightened of Severus.

“It was wrong to cheat on Harry. But I love Severus, mum,” said Ginny and sat back in her chair with a finality that suggested she’d have little more to say on the subject.

Sitting down in a chair next to her daughter, Molly sighed, pulled out her wand and summoned a bottle of Firewhisky from the pantry. A generous amount was put in two chipped mugs and topped with some hot black tea.

“So will you… is he…” Molly stammered.

Ginny just nodded.

Glassy sweat beads shimmered on her mother’s brow. “Merciful Morgana! Grandchildren by that man!”

Presumably imagining a malicious five year old putting an Imperius on her for not bringing enough sweets, Molly tossed back her drink with one shaky motion.

But while Ginny wondered what to say next, there was a dull sound coming from the fireplace, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were expelled in a cloud of soot. The sudden ruckus prompted her father and Severus to finally come in from the cold. 

Ginny sighed. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

With a lack of grace that reminded her of Errol’s landing, Harry staggered to his feet and adjusted the glasses on his nose.

“Look who’s here! Interrupting your wigging, Gin? I was sure your parents would have something to say about this!” A nasty sneer crept across Harry’s face. “In hindsight, I should have known. How else could you have stayed top girl in Potions if not for the occasional shag in the Potions cabinet, eh? Should have checked your knickers for grease stains from that git’s enormous nose.”

“Harry,” hissed Hermione, brushing some dust off her robe. “We understand that you are rather put out with Professor Snape just now…”

“Or always,” Ron interceded, then shrugged as everybody stared at him. “What? It’s true. Mum, are there cream buns left over?”

For a moment everyone appeared very confused, then Harry’s wand was halfway into the air.

“Expelliarmus!” Severus drawled, pointing his wand at Harry. “Sorcery requires complete focus, Potter. Just another one of your deficits, I suppose. Next to a lack of good behaviour.”

Ginny held her breath as she picked up Harry’s wand and placed it on the table. At least there wouldn’t be a wizard’s duel.

“I am sorry,” said Harry with a touch more defiance than mockery. “I suppose I deserve detention with you every Saturday until the end of term, ‘sir’?”

Ginny watched Severus take a very deep breath indeed and let it out just as slowly, as though he was making a decision on how to act. She cringed, knowing just how nasty he could be when provoked – especially when Harry was the provocateur.

"You will apologize to Ginny if you know what's good for you, Potter. I do believe her father is ready to spit nails," Severus said, his voice deceptively soft as he straightened to his full height, making Harry look that much shorter in comparison.

Everyone's eyes went to Arthur, whose face was red and sweating so that his glasses were slightly fogged. 

"What did you say about my daughter, Harry?" Arthur asked, his voice not nearly as soft as Severus's and strained with hot anger.

Harry sputtered as he tried to answer, "Well, sir – that is to say – Mr. Weasley –"

"Something about there being 'grease stains' on her knickers while she was at school?" Arthur said, moving towards Harry now with calculated steps.

"You smell like a Muggle bar, sir. Don't you think so Mrs. Weasley?" Harry said, desperate not to be the centre of attention.

"I wouldn't know, Harry dear," Molly sniffed, her voice gone from its previously kind warmth down to an icy chill. "All I smell in this room is utter shite."

Harry looked at Ron for help, but Ron only shook his head as he licked a dot of cream from his lip. 

"You're on your own, mate. Don't think I won't be kicking your arse through the mud later for insulting my sister. She may have broken up with you, but you've been a right git to her for years," Ron said, popping the rest of the bun into his mouth.

"Ever since the War ended, really," Hermione added, edging closer to Ginny. "Honestly, I can't say I blame her."

"Fine words coming from a man-hating lezzer," Harry yelled, his anger finally exploding.

Hermione's head reared back as though he'd slapped her.

"Way too far, Harry," said Ron, wiping his hands on his pants and grabbing the pot of Floo-powder. "We're going back to Grimmauld Place."

"Like hell I am," Harry roared, his scar now standing out white against his purpling, bulbous face.

"Shut it," Ron ordered, taking Harry's arm and rushing him into the emerald fire after quickly stating the address. 

The room suddenly seemed much bigger, and was indeed much quieter, after they were gone.

Ginny let out a shaky breath and looked over to Hermione, who was wiping her eyes with the end of her sleeve.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked her, going to her side and putting an arm around her waist.

Hermione shook her head. 

"After all these years… gone through so much together…" she said, sniffling. 

"Here's a handkerchief, dear," Molly said, giving her one from her own pocket. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione quietly as she dabbed her eyes and nose. 

"Am I to understand that this isn't the first time he's blown his top?" Arthur asked, his face only marginally less red than it was before.

Hermione and Ginny both shook their heads. 

"He's not completely stable, you see," Hermione said. "We thought it was the Horcrux along with the stress of the link to Voldemort, and the War of course."

"But that wasn't completely it," Ginny added. "And it only got worse after. He refuses to talk to anyone about it, even to the Healers."

"He was just let go from the Aurors," Hermione revealed. 

Ginny was completely shocked and let out a little moan before she could stop herself from reacting.

"I didn't know that," Arthur said, surprised.

"The official story is to be that he resigned," Hermione said. "He is 'Harry Potter'. The public opinion of him still means something to the Ministry."

"Why didn't you tell me it was that bad, you foolishly brave girl?" Severus asked, moving to Ginny's side and taking her hand.

"Fight my own battles," she whispered, looking up at him guiltily. "Did you really want to know?"

"It makes sense that you wanted that potion now," he said angrily, though the anger was not directed at her. 

She shrugged, then nodded in defeat. 

"Ginny, I – " Molly started, looking worn.

"I know, Mum. You didn't know," Ginny said.

"It's been our secret, I guess," Hermione added. "Protecting Harry is all we know how to do, it seems."

"I guess I can understand that," Severus said, looking at the plate of cream buns by the stove in the kitchen with a little longing.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake take one and bring the rest, Severus," Molly said. "In fact, let's all have a spot of tea."

He hastily summoned the plate and took a seat at the table. Ginny sat next to him and relaxed when she felt his hand grab her knee and squeeze tightly.

"Why is there Firewhisky on the table at four in the afternoon?" Arthur asked, taking the bottle in his hand and pouring himself a cup all the same.

"It's not every day you find out your daughter is in love with Severus Snape," Molly said, her own cup of Firewhisky having now completely gone to her head before she realised what she was saying. She looked over to Ginny and Severus apologetically. 

"He knows, Mum," Ginny sighed out as she looked at Severus's smirking face. "And now, so do Dad and 'Mione."

Arthur just smiled a little vaguely as he tossed back his cup of Firewhisky with a gulp.

Hermione smiled as she sat down at the table with them, taking the cup of tea given to her by Molly. 

"You won't find any judgement from me, Gin and… Snape?" Hermione asked, a little unsure how to address her former teacher.

"Good enough, Granger," he said.

She nodded and took a bun from the plate too.

"How's Astoria?" Ginny asked.

"Brilliant," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing a little as she looked at the two elder Weasleys at the end of the table. She added very quietly, "She would like to thank you, Snape, for the product you created for us."

"It's a good formula, isn't it?" Ginny whispered, feeling her cheeks turn pink as well as Hermione's eyebrows raised up in surprise. 

"What are you whispering about down there?" Arthur asked. "What did Severus make?"

"Ummm…" Ginny said, feeling her cheeks go scarlet.

"It was a – err – " Hermione stammered.

"An herbal soap, Arthur, for Miss Greengrass. Hermione came up with an extra special formulation, which I altered slightly for Ginny's tastes."

The hand on her knee squeezed playfully.

"Well, wasn't that a nice thing to do," Molly said, her words cheerfully slurring. "Are the herbs invigorating?"

“Very much so,” Hermione coughed, a pretty blush rising from her neck. “I should go and check up on Ron before I pick up Astoria at Madam Malkin’s.”

With a deftness that seemed completely unhampered by her tipsy state, Molly wrapped up some of the lovely pillowy buns and put a stasis charm over them. 

“Take this back to Ron and Lavender and your girl,” she offered brightly before she added more soberly. “Whatever are we going to do with Harry?”

“Surely no buns for him!” Arthur told her scornfully.

“Of course not,” Molly cried indignantly. “But this dilemma will not go away if we ignore it long enough.”

“Let us know when you’ve figured it out,” said Ginny, her words a little bitter, a little cold. She rose to her feet. “I’ll go pack up a few things from my room.”

“Oh, Ginny,” her mother shook with a sudden unexpected sob, but pulled herself together quickly. “Very well.”

Saying their goodbyes, Hermione took a handful of Floo powder at the fireplace, and Severus followed Ginny upstairs to her small room on the first landing. With a flick of her wand, she lit the candles and he smirked at the pink walls and the Holyhead Harpies posters, the innocent white bedstead with its scuffed purple bedspread and the chipped chest of drawers next to it.

He looked out of the window, down on the dark orchard that was dusted with snow. 

“I don’t know what to pack,” Ginny confessed and put her teeth to her lower lip.

In truth, most of her things had been at Grimmauld Place until last night when Harry had put a Confringo and Lacarnum Inflamari curse to them faster than she could yell Declino Alica. Now all that she had left were some of her old clothes from her school days and a few newer items Harry had deemed too scandalous for her to wear. Thankfully, her Quidditch uniforms and long underwear were in her locker at the Harpies’ clubhouse.

“You won’t need much,” Severus drawled, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her waist. “A few things for social outings.”

“Am I to be naked at home, sir?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Mostly,” he smirked and opened the top drawer. “Ah, your Hogwarts uniform. Would you like to put it on and have me feel up your blouse here in your little room above the kitchen with your parents downstairs?”

Ginny licked her lips, her heart pounding. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, that is very naughty!”

But she didn’t say no, something he obviously had picked up on and therefore now chuckled darkly. Ginny’s breathing quickened, the cream of her cunt coating the inside of her denims.

However, Severus put the school clothes aside and looked further through the drawers. 

“I may allow you to wear these on special occasions,” he said, amused and held out a bra and a pair of French knickers to her – sheer, red tulle with little raised dots. 

Ginny nodded and blushed, remembering how she had bought the set before her fifth year to seduce Dean Thomas in the storage room of ‘The Three Broomsticks’.

He put them in a small trunk, along with a kelly green cotton day dress with a robe-like sash and wrap front that went down to mid-calf – she has always liked how it had hugged her waist and accentuated her hips. A coarse grey wool jumper with a deep v-neck landed in the trunk. It was barely long enough to be worn as a dress, yet, Ginny realised that had to be his intention as he placed a black suede belt on top of it. 

“Oh,” Ginny blushed as he found the tight red leather mini with the silver zip fastener in the back, running down from the very top to the very bottom. “There’s a snug black cashmere jumper that goes with it. And a pair of heels.”

He smirked as he added these items, as well as a pair of low heel t-straps and a high-necked but backless copen blue knit dress with long sleeves. A couple of sensible witches robes were put on top. And finally a strapless cream silk gown. Without a shift underneath one would surely see her deliciously rosy nipples through the thin fabric. A pair of elbow length leather gloves in light green completed the outfit.

“Do you have a cloak?” he asked as he inspected her jewellery – small silver hoops and a pair of dangling emerald drop earrings found his approval.

“No,” said Ginny, mourning her new winter coat that Harry had burnt to ash with a simple Incendio. 

“We should get you one – niffler fur perhaps with a silver clasp,” he said thoughtfully. “And dragon hide boots.”

He added a few pairs of knee highs, some silk stockings and a suspender belt.

“You don’t object to my clothing, sir?” Ginny asked nervously.

A look of astonishment on his face, he frowned. “Why?”

“Well, Harry would always throw the worst fit if he thought I dressed like a cheap trollop from Knockturn Alley.”

Ginny blushed deeply, after all this was where she was headed with Severus, and the irony was not escaping her. 

His mouth set in a thin line.

“Nasty little boy,” he muttered and snorted, then he kissed her temple. “You’re a sensual young witch, Ginny, and very beautiful. There is nothing wrong with showing that.”

Pondering this, she gnawed at her bottom lip. She clutched a small soft toy to her chest, a unicorn made of terrycloth she had named Sorcha when she was five. Finally she nodded.

His mouth came down on hers. Angry and demanding. Some bites and nibbles there. A powerful consuming kiss that lit her up on the inside like a shower of sparks. Her nipples responded immediately, so fast and harsh it was almost painful. His hands finally under her soft cashmere jumper, each stroke of his calloused fingers against her tits was agony, blessed torture.

"Sir," Ginny whimpered and squirmed a little. "Oh please! Shag me back at yours? I'll do everything you mentioned earlier, and more if you like."

Thin lips spread into a sardonic grin as his hands slid down to her bum, slipping in and out of the waist of her denims, sliding in just a little further with every pass. 

"That could be a little much for one afternoon. Is this what I get for setting my store on an athletic 'little slip of a witch'?" Severus asked, lightly mocking the words he must have heard her mother say about Astoria earlier. 

Ginny ran her teeth over her lower lip and shook her head gently. 

"It's what you get for being with a little lioness who wants to shag you until next week, sir!" she said, gasping as his hands crept completely into her denims and fell flush over her still sensitive skin. 

"Perhaps we could give some parts of your body a rest," he said suggestively as he squeezed harder, making her writhe against him with anticipation.

"I think it would only be fair," she panted. 

His fingers slid between the crease of her arse, seeking the entrance there. But he pulled away just before the pads of his fingers found it, pulling his hands back up to the curve of her hips.

"Have you all you need?" he asked.

Ginny looked down to where Sorcha lay on the floor. She must have dropped her during his sensual assault on her body. Bending down, she picked up the doll she once loved so dearly and placed it on her little bed with a sigh.

"I do," she said, taking the hand he offered her.

They shut the lid of the trunk together, and with a simple Wingardium Leviosa it floated down the stairs behind them.

Arthur and Molly had left the table, and the warm smell of lamb stew bubbling on the stove now filled the room. They walked to the kitchen, following the delicious scent. Ginny blushed as they walked in on her parents snogging next to the sink. She turned her head to stave off the fit of giggles as she realised her first memory of the home was toddling in to this very sight as a very little girl.

Severus cleared his throat to let them know they weren't alone.

Arthur jumped back, straightening his coat as Molly's hands went to her pinny, which seemed to have become very askew.

"We will be taking our leave, for now," Severus said, nodding at Arthur.

"You will – take care of her, won't you Severus?" Molly asked, rushing forward to him before stepping back again as though she only just remembered who she was.

"She doesn't need me to do that, but I will do as much as she allows," he said evenly.

"Bye, Mum. Dad." She hugged them both tightly, even though she knew she would be back for Sunday lunch and probably tea later this very week. 

It hadn't felt like this when she went to stay with Harry, as brief as it had been – and Ginny had always come home for long visits to escape the emotionally hectic life at Grimmauld Place. She knew when she went home with Severus, she wouldn't be coming back to the Burrow to escape. Her home would be where he was.

"Your favourite will be on Thursday, dear. Shortbread dipped in a little chocolate," Molly said, sniffling slightly as she swayed gently in place.

Ginny smothered another laugh at the appearance of her slightly intoxicated mother, and nodded her agreement.

"And yes, Severus. I'll send her home…" Molly's lip trembled before she steeled herself and finished, "I'll send her home with some for you."

"Thank you, Molly," he said.

"Just remember what I said, Severus," Arthur asked, nodding briskly.

"I won't forget."

Ginny looked up at Severus, her eyebrows drawn together with her unspoken question, but he shook his head at her. 

After another set of hugs between parents and child, they left, walking out into the fiercely cold, biting wind. It had quit sleeting, thankfully, but the temperature had dropped what felt like ten degrees during their time indoors. Ginny wrapped his cloak around her a little tighter and knew that she would have to go shopping as they discussed, and soon.


	11. Surrender

They reached the little gate and let themselves out, though the trunk bumped against the lone plank that was higher than the others. Severus flicked his wand at it, and it disappeared from sight. He touched her arm, and they were back in his bedroom once more, her trunk now resting in the corner next to a black robe rack.

"So here we are," she said, now a little shy as she removed his robes and hung them up on the rack. She kept her back to him as she fiddled with the silver buttons on the collar, absent of thought.

"Home," he said, hanging the robes he wore on the next hook.

"Home," she agreed, smiling up at him as the shyness left.

"Hungry?" he asked, eyeing her breasts and licking his lips.

"Not for food," she whispered as she reached up and pulled his head down to hers, kissing him with all her might while she cupped him through his trousers.

"Lustful lioness," he chuckled as her lips went to his neck and her hands worked through every button on his chest, both jacket and shirt, before dropping to the buttons on his trousers. She made short work of it, and with his help he was soon completely naked while she had somehow remained fully dressed.

"Now, how did that happen?" he asked playfully as he lifted the jumper from her body and tossed it onto the pile of his clothes. Her denims soon followed.

His hands went to her arse once more, and this time his fingertips did seek out the tiny entrance there.

"Have you tried it before? You never did tell me," he asked, placing a light and gentle pressure there.

"Once," she admitted, stiffening at the memory.

In a word, it had been horrible. It was with Harry, and he had been too excited at the taboo act to properly prepare either one of them. 

It had hurt, it had been humiliating, and it had never been repeated.

"Why would you want to try it again, after that?" he asked cautiously after she finally told him the basics of the previous event.

"Because, sir… you know what you are doing. And you won't hurt me," she said brightly, smiling at the thought that every part of her body would sing under his tutelage.

"And have you been using the instruments I gave you, to prepare?" he asked, swatting her cheeks lightly.

She blushed a very pretty shade of pink as she nodded. 

"Every day, sir. And I used the biggest one yesterday, in fact," she said, oddly proud.

"Then we may proceed after a few preparations," he said, kissing her. He drew her tongue into is his mouth and sucked lightly on it before guiding her to the bed. 

He pushed her down gently, letting her fall on her belly onto the soft green blanket once more. 

"I just need a few things," he said, kissing the bottom of her spine before he walked into the bathroom. 

Ginny sighed happily as she curled herself onto the blanket, humming to herself. She didn't realise he'd returned until a hand very gently rubbed her back, while the other worked a warm slippery cream into the crease of her arse. 

"What's that, sir?" she asked, trying to smell the air, but the stench of the green wood in the fireplace overwhelmed her nose a little.

"Just a variation on a compound I make for arthritic old wizards like Minerva," he said only a little nastily as he uttered the name of the new Hogwarts Headmistress. 

She moaned slightly as her skin warmed pleasantly everywhere the cream touched her.

"What's in it – it feels really nice," she moaned as one long finger pressed more firmly into her tight hole.

"Push against me," he said.

She blushed as she did so, and the finger was there, within her, and gods didn't it feel brilliantly good.

"Good," he said with pride as he kissed the bumps on her spine. "The ingredients are simple. I use coconut oil as a base and add one half ounce of calendula oil to it, to help soothe the skin."

Ginny knew he was trying to distract her, and was glad. She could listen to him speak all day and have naught care in the world. A second finger eased in, and he presently added more of the thick cream to help keep things nice and slick.

"Twenty-five drops of Arnica extract makes the cream warm the muscles, as you can feel. Is it too much?" he asked as he started to thrust his fingers gently within her.

"It's perfect," she said, relaxing as he worked her arse with focused precision. 

"A little Belladonna helps everything to relax nicely, and willow bark for pain," he said cautiously as he added a third and continued the long strokes of his fingers in and out of her until she was almost crazed for the desire to have the fingers replaced by his cock.

"More," she whispered, her hands touching her cunt and clit as she desperately tried to make herself come.

As if suffering from a malignant spell, she writhed shamelessly, her cunt and fingers as slippery from her own juices as her arse was from his slicking preparations. The soft blanket didn’t provide any friction either. Ginny sobbed in frustration.

Something seemed to dawn on him, and he sneered at her discomfort. His fingers stopped the invasion of her arse and instead caressed her arsehole before he withdrew.

“Oh my, Ginny,” he taunted her, bringing his hand down with a resounding smack on her bottom. “You liked to rub your little cunt against the rough fabric of that sweet little soft toy of yours, didn’t you?”

As he roughly turned her face, she saw that his gleaming eyes were mischievously fixed on her and she blushed furiously. With his open hand he smartly slapped her arse again when she did not answer. 

“Tell me about it! No lies!”

Her mouth went dry and he savoured the triumph of her embarrassment and in the midst of her anguish chuckled darkly at her lack of propriety.

“Yes,” she whispered, not daring to lower her gaze. “The summer after my first year. I’d lie down on my stomach, squeeze my legs together around… you know.”

What a dirty thought it was, Ginny pondered, thinking of her younger self, finding pleasure with her innocent toy! But despite his amusement, his ridicule, he obviously understood what brought this on – a mug of hot chocolate had barely been enough to find relief from the nightmares following her first year.

“So you humped against the coarse cloth, fucked your sweet pussy on that little unicorn aching for release?” he mocked. “Did you coat it properly with your cream?”

“Every time, sir,” Ginny bit her lip. “That’s how I learnt the Scourgify spell.”

“Bring it back next time,” he said. “I should like to watch you.”

Ginny nodded, her cheeks burning. Then he smacked her arse again and she imagined large handprints, immediately flowering on her pale skin. Her legs widened, her bottom arching higher to make the most of his slaps. His other hand pressed against her lower back to keep her still, the warmth and slickness of the oil still spreading through her insides. 

“I’ve made you wait long enough,” he declared and sat back against the pillows. “Straddle me!”

Her heart fluttered. Not that she would have minded to be taken from behind, but this was such a sweet gesture, letting her ride him, giving her a bit of control. He pulled her roughly over his legs and onto his lap, sucked one of her rosy nipples into his mouth while fingering her arsehole again. Ginny muffled a scream. Then he turned his head and suckled on the other nipple. It wasn’t long until her longing moans became sobs and her small hands were fisted in his black hair, grounding her centre against his cock.

“Now you shag me, little lioness!” he growled.

Instantly, she panted heavily as he caressed her arse, kneading and squeezing until she pushed back against his hands. Slowly, he pulled her cheeks apart. Again she bit her lower lip but the warm oil coating her insides was reassuring.

Carefully, Ginny rose up and moved her legs over him. Hands on her knees, she slowly sat back, lowering herself until she was positioned over his erection. He slicked his cock with more oil, rubbing lazily. Fascinated she looked down on him in awe. Then he smeared more oil around her anus.

“That feels so good, sir,” she sighed as the slippery tip of his cock started in.

He put both hands on her hips, slowly easing her down on him.

“Rub your clit, Ginny. I want to see your little fingers moving no matter what!” he ordered darkly.

Her weight settling onto him, his prick slid slowly deeper. Ginny panted, sweat coating her breastbone. For a brief moment, her whole body shivered. Then a long, hoarse moan escaped her throat, as he pulled her down and slid his cock in to the hilt.

“Merlin –“ Ginny sobbed helplessly.

Fervent, tight spasms milked his shaft. Her hand moved frantically over her moist slit and swollen nub as Severus sat his hands on her waist and slowly fucked her arse up and down his cock.

“Faster, sir!” Ginny begged, licking beads of sweat from her upper lip. “Make me come!”

Her shudders were almost constant now as her quivering hole tried to suck his come from his cock.

“Say my name, Ginny!” he shouted, trusting up hard.

“Severus! Oh… Severus, please!” she cried and ground against him, her cunt violently leaking her own release as he spilled load after load of hot, creamy seed up her arse.

Weakly, she collapsed against him, her head resting on his shoulder as she shook and panted, finally giggling nervously. 

Ginny sighed as his softening cock slid slowly free and he slapped her arse one more time. His wetness leaked out from between her cheeks. When she grabbed her wand from the night table, his thin lips twitched.

“Scourgify,” she said shakily, moving the wand over both of them, gave him a wry but agreeable smile.

And then she blushed and snuggled up to him, humming contentedly as his arm wrapped around her. His hand traced her spine again, caressing every tiny bump as their breathing began to slow from lusty pants to regular steady breaths.

"Do you always want me to call you that?" she asked lazily as he pressed a kiss to her brow.

"What?"

"Severus. You asked me to, during and…" she said, blushing hotly with the memory of their combined passion.

He smiled one of his rare, true smiles and shook his head.

"Would you find it terrible if I said I prefer you call me 'sir' at certain times and by my given name at others?" he asked softly. 

He gathered the blanket around them, which made her feel very warm and cosy indeed, in the wake of their tiring session earlier.

"No sir," she said, trying not to grin as she said it. 

Actually, she found she preferred to call him that truth be told. It wasn't a carry-over from school, though it could be perceived that way, she supposed. In reality, it was a sign of doing something to please him, and was a secret thrill for them both.

"Good," he said, kissing her temple now with warm lips that made her feel very loved.


	12. Rewards

They laid there for a while, and Ginny thought she may have nodded off a few times, as rapidly the remnants of the grey sky gave way to a darkness that reminded her of black flannel. She touched her stomach and realised that the bun from earlier had either done little to satiate her appetite, or they had just worked it off in the interim. Either way, she was hungry, and by the loud grumblings coming from Severus's stomach he was too.

"Food?" she asked, sitting up slightly and letting the blanket fall from her breasts.

He looked at them before he met her eyes, nodding in agreement. 

"Here or out?" he asked, letting his eyes slide back down to her chest.

"Out?" she asked, trying to think of a decent place in Knockturn Alley.

"The White Wyvern has a good treacle sponge," he said, already licking his lips.

"The White Wyvern," she grinned, unnecessarily crawling over him to get out of the bed, dragging her breasts just within reach of his mouth as she did so. She giggled when she heard him sigh as she hopped out and started pulling her clothes out from the pile on the floor.

"You should wear something else," he said, eyeing her trunk as he slid out of bed.

"What would you like me to wear, sir?" she asked. She dropped the jumper back to where it had lain.

Severus opened the trunk and looked through it, finding the grey jumper and belt towards the top. His lips twitched when he handed it to her.

"Nothing underneath, my little lioness" he said, very seriously, watching the pink return to her cheeks as he cupped her cunt with his spare hand.

She nodded, feeling the blush creep down her neck and chest. No undergarments under a jumper and long pants were one thing – under a skin-tight jumper she would already be wearing inappropriately as a dress it would be another matter completely. 

Then he kissed her, of course, and any thought other than the teeth nibbling her lower lip completely left her mind. The hand on her cunt petted lightly, stimulating her further until she realised with a jolt that she was wet yet again. She wondered if it would always be like this between them – if he could command her body with just the flick of his wrist and make her wet and wanting. 

He pulled back and leaned down to pick up his discarded clothes. 

"I have another little something for you in the wardrobe," he said as he pulled on his shirt.

"You have to stop spoiling me, sir," she said, walking to the wardrobe herself with a little secret smile on her face.

"To the left, on the bottom," he said.

Ginny could feel his eyes on her as she opened the wardrobe and looked where instructed. On the bottom, and to the left, were a pair of square toed, dragon hide boots just like he'd mentioned earlier. Except, these were knee high and had dangerously high heels. She understood the short dress now, and squirmed as she thought about how sexy she was going to get to look tonight. And then she grinned, happy to be with a man who wanted her to look sexy for him.

"I'm speechless, sir," she said happily as she took the boots out of the wardrobe and turned to look at him. He was almost dressed except for his coat, just now buttoning the fly of his trousers. 

"Put them on," he commanded in that voice that sent shivers up and down her spine. 

Very carefully, as she didn't want to smear her fingerprints on the shiny boots, she unzipped them and sat down on the bed to put them on. As she slid her feet in, Ginny realised they would be a perfect fit, though she expected nothing less from a man with such penetrating, assessing eyes. She zipped them back up, enjoying the way the leather caressed her skin as they snugly hugged her calves. She reached to pull on her jumper when he stopped her.

"Stand up now, Ginny."

She nodded and stood, letting herself get used to the height of the heels before she took a confident step forward. She couldn't help herself when she glanced in the mirror behind him. The sight of her lissom, nude body only clad in the scandalous heels made her own pulse race so that she couldn't imagine what it might be doing to him.

Her answer to that came when she caught him discreetly adjust himself as he circled around her, taking in her appearance from all sides.

"I should have you march downstairs only in those, Ginny, so I can parade your perfectly sexy body around the alley and show off what's mine," he growled lowly as he returned to her front.

She rubbed her thighs together, fighting the urge to put her hand between her legs.

"Does that excite you, my little exhibitionist?" he asked, his voice now as smooth as a cup of hot chocolate. "Tell me, and there will be a reward for you before bed!"

"It excites me, sir," she said confidently, meeting his eyes fully with hers as he inched closer.

"Good," he said. 

Severus took her jumper and belt from the bed and dressed her himself, adjusting the neck of the dress to make sure the maximum amount of cleavage showed. He tightened the wide belt so snugly she had to suck in a breath, which only made her breasts thrust out all the more. Accio-ing a brush from her bag, he handled her long, coppery hair himself, using long, even strokes until it was as smooth as silk in his hands.

"Do you own red lipstick?" he asked.

Ginny nodded.

"Put it on," he said, turning to her trunk once again. 

She fiddled with her bag, finding her makeup in the bottom and her lipstick at the very bottom of that. It glided over her lips easily, and she used a stasis charm over it so that it would not smudge out of place.

"Here," he said, passing her the hoop earrings that had been a gift from Fleur last Christmas. She put them on, enjoying the familiar pull on her ears.

"Now, look in the mirror, Ginny, and tell me what you see."

The jumper clung to her like a second skin, the coarse wool rubbing her bare breasts until her nipples showed hard under it. Ginny gave a small squeal, a single drop of moisture worked its slow way down her thigh. 

“A wicked little witch meant for wicked things,” she replied, blushing to the roots of her flaming hair. 

His hand that had rested on the small of her back, now slid over her arse. 

“Indeed,” he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking smile. Then he continued quietly, a bit vexed, “From your fourth year till the end of the War, you had a passion that was so bold, so daring, so sensuous, Ginny, it seems rather sad that it should vanish.”

Now Ginny looked crestfallen, it hadn’t occurred to her how much she had changed. She remembered the heated angry debate with Ron in her fifth year about snogging Dean in public, how she had refused to let him shame her. Yet while she had managed to scream with derisive laughter at her inexperienced brother then, she had not stood up to Harry when he had done the same after the War.

“Oh, it’s not gone, sir,” she said, trying to reassure him and herself. “It’s there when I play Quidditch, when I’m with you… and now looking at myself.”

Then she laughed outright and throwing her arms around his neck lightly kissed him.

“Good,” he said. “Come on, let’s be going.”

Through the thickening snow, they walked up a set of icy stairs by Markus Scarrs Indelible Tattoos. Ginny caught a glimpse of the worm-eaten winged snake sign creaking in the wintry wind. Severus steered her inside the pub. The low buzz of chatter never stopped when they walked in. 

The White Wyvern consisted of a single, grubby-looking room. Battered tables and chairs as well as a bar seemed to be made of root wood, crudely nailed together. Three or four shelves with many cobwebbed bottles lined the wall behind the bar. A fire was burning on an open hearth, and over it hung a kettle of soup. In the corner, a rusty cage held an Erkling with a pointy face and a high-pitched cackle. Hermione surely would have something to say about that.

The patrons were mostly witches and wizards, old ones with great humps and beards, but also young ones who looked shabby and sinister. Still, there was the odd Werewolf and a couple of Hags among them. Playing dice, bellowing ‘Weird Sisters’ songs along with the wireless or quarrelling over pieces of raw liver. Even some goblins gathered in a corner, drinking snakeweed tea. Recalling her naughty adventure at Gringotts, Ginny blushed. She couldn’t believe it had just been this morning.

“Perhaps we should have gone to The Leaky Cauldron after all,” Ginny murmured.

The barmaid, a short stout witch in a rumpled black dress that looked frayed and somehow dusty, had nothing of Hannah Abbott’s pink-faced, blonde-haired sweetness. Instead, she was smoking a long curved pipe, which dangled from one corner of her mouth and pulled her whole cheek out of shape.

Severus snorted. “Don’t look like that, it’s not so very terrible.”

And Ginny bit her bottom lip.

“Oh, my dear, if you happen to wonder what’s good, that’s the sort of question we think a little dangerous to ask around here,” cackled the barmaid. “So what will it be?”

“Roast hog with parsnips for me. Fish and chips with mushy peas for my companion,” he ordered brusquely. “Bakewell pudding for dessert if you have it.”

Shrugging off her cloak, Ginny carefully sat down at one of the tables in a shadowy corner. A foaming tankard of Butterbeer was placed in front of her, a glass of Elf-made wine in front of Severus. 

“Spread your legs a little,” he ordered sternly, parting her thighs with his hands.

This tone of his voice always excited her and she eagerly followed his demand, secretly adoring how he inserted a certain playfulness into everyday activities. Dinner came and went. It was surprisingly good, considering the surroundings. 

They talked more about Quidditch – about how Charlotte was too much of a stroppy cow and Gwendolyn too much of a bumble brain to take the captainship away from her. Of course Morag MacDougal was still competition. Amused, he listened with interest and offered encouragement. And a little sad, a little confused, Ginny wondered why Harry had never done that after she had started playing for the Harpies. 

The moon wouldn’t be full for a few days yet. Still, in the middle of the room, the Werewolves got drunk on rowanberry schnapps, then perched themselves atop a table and sang “Do the Hippogriff”. 

Slightly dizzy from the sweet alcohol, Ginny thought there actually were things she’d rather do and took a deep drink from her tankard as a toothless Hag approached, holding a tray of mouldy carnations.

“What a sweet pussy you have, my darling child,” the old Hag leered at her, showing mossy green teeth.

A cold shiver ran down Ginny’s spine but he wanted her to be confident, did he not? So she smiled brightly, opening her legs a bit wider.

“Thank you,” she said, her face glowing like the setting sun.

The Hag licked her lips and turned to Severus. “A pretty flower for the young witch?”

“She is very tasty but of age, I’m afraid,” he sneered and tossed the Hag five sickles. “Better get yourself some dragon liver!”

Disappointed, the Hag took off. Ginny breathed more easily, but really only for a moment.

“I reckon, lioness, you have earned yourself that reward now,” Severus drawled and pulled Sorcha, the little terrycloth unicorn, from his coat pocket.

Cancelling the stasis charm she had put on her make-up, he drew her onto his lap and into a passionate kiss that plumped her lips and smeared her lipstick. Ginny felt herself getting wet again and suppressed a giggle.

It had been an unsettling but wonderful sort of day.


	13. Promises –– Severus

"Oh… uhhhh… gods," Ginny murmured as she squirmed on the bed. 

Her freshly spanked arse was nice and pink, just as Severus liked it. And his hand was good and sore, as it should be after giving her the spanking of a lifetime. He grinned and his black eyes flared in the light of the fire as he watched her writhe, bringing her legs together and then apart again as she masturbated for him – her prize for having taken her punishment so very, very well. 

"Ohhhhhh… sweet – Merlin!" she cried, her hand moving faster between her legs now as she was good and warmed up from his stinging hand on her now bare pussy as well as her own excited one that now helped her seek release.

He wondered just how long she would make it without asking him for… it. From his seat at the edge of the bed, he could see her frustration, and dammit if he didn't want to give it to her without her begging tongue shamefully requesting what she wanted.

"Close – close," she said, nodding as she inserted two fingers, then three into her dripping wet pussy. 

Gods… she was so wet she was making a stain on the sheets, and he fought every urge to kneel before her and start lapping happily between her legs.

"Severus?" she asked, her eyes closed in deep concentration.

"What?" he asked lazily as he inhaled the sweet, musky perfume of her blatant arousal.

"I need…" she said, turning onto her stomach and gyrating madly on her hand.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Did you need something?" he asked, letting his voice mock her as he watched her back arch beautifully, showing off the red handprints that were forming nicely on the round, white globes of her backside. 

Severus had to fight to keep from kissing them… for now.

"I need it," Ginny whimpered, shuddering against her favourite cashmere blanket.

"Need what? Speak up!" he demanded, giving in to his own desire and spanking her right, then her left arse cheek once more.

"Sorcha! I need her – please – now!"

He smirked as he held out his hand, silently summoning the little unicorn toy to him. Placing it in between her legs himself, he sat back as her thighs immediately clamped down on it. She ground against the coarse, terry cloth toy that he could already see getting damp from absorbing the cream from her pussy.

"Dirty girl! Humping your toy again. You need a little more correction don't you?" he scolded as he slapped her arse in time with the gyrations of her hips, aiming just a little higher than he normally did.

"Yes! Correct me sir! Punish me – but please don't stop touching me – I need you… oh FUCK! Just like… ohhh!" she squealed as they found the spot that would set off her release. They'd been lovers long enough now for him to see it – to know when her orgasm was inevitable even with his distractions. 

Severus spanked her harder as her body convulsed in hard, wracking shudders. Her breathing almost seemed to stop for a minute, and when she turned her face to the side it was as pink as her arse before she screamed so loudly he was glad there was a permanent Muffling charm on his bedroom.

"FFFUUUCCCKKK!!!" she shrieked.

He couldn't help but be proud of her, he really couldn't. She looked so beautiful right now, with her mascara running from tears and her sweat, and her lipstick smeared halfway down her chin from his kisses and from the messy, perfect blowjob she'd given him right before her spanking. When he looked down, he saw half of his cock was still coated in the bright red colour. He didn't know if he could bear to wash it off just yet, though Ginny would most definitely need more than the Cleansing Charm he would use on himself.

Smirking, he plucked Sorcha from between her legs and brought it to his nose. The scent of her arousal was so strong it made his mouth water in anticipation for the long night ahead of them after they came home from the party… she'd promised him a Christmas present he'd never forget.

Merlin's teeth! If he hadn't promised Minerva that they would show up he would be very tempted indeed to tie Ginny to the bed and rub her entire body with his sensitising oil until she divulged just what the present was.

"Scourgify," a weak, hoarse voice said, and suddenly his favourite scent disappeared. He tried very hard not to scowl, so instead he glared at her.

"I wasn't done," he said sullenly, placing the little unicorn on the bed next to her. 

"Sorry," she sighed, rolling over toward him and drawing her knees up to her chest. "I need the loo, sir, and a shower."

"After I show you what you shall wear tonight," he said as he rose from the bed and walked to his wardrobe. 

Their wardrobe, he thought with a little smirk as he opened the door and pulled out the dress she had brought home from a Muggle shop last week while out shopping with Hermione and Astoria.

She blushed a dark, rosy shade of pink that matched her nipples nicely.

"I can't wear it to a Hogwarts event, sir!" she said, sounding very scandalized by his suggestion of dress. 

The dress was made of a lightweight silk that could almost be seen through if worn in the lighting of Muggle abodes, but Severus knew in candle and firelight it would only translate as looking almost like a second skin when she wore it. The dress was the colour of heavy, dense cream and was in fact the exact shade of her own fair, lightly freckled skin, making it even that much more seductive as one would have to look very closely to see what was the silky fabric and what was her own skin.

The skirt was decent enough, ending with a flare at her knee and not nearly the shortest thing she owned. It was the front and back, or lack thereof, which was completely outrageous by both Muggle and Wizard standard. The dress was sleeveless, showing off her long, muscular arms – but many Witch dress robes were nowadays. But the neckline of the dress dipped low in the front, almost down to her navel and was secured only by a very fine gold chain just above her breasts. The back… there were two pieces of fabric there that only augmented the fact that the dress was actually backless and ended just a mere inch above the cleft of her lovely, rounded arse cheeks. 

When she'd tried on the dress for him after she returned home, the flush of her body had shone straight through the fabric, he'd shagged her against his bookshelf until the pink was the deep red that occurred with her orgasm. 

It had been marvellous.

"Isn't that why you bought it?" Severus asked, his lips curving to a sneer. "So that everyone could see your tits and the curve of your arse? Now everyone will see, and I'll enjoy every moment of it."

"But I'll be cold!" she protested, albeit weakly.

"You'll wear your new cape and those elbow length green gloves you are so fond of. I'll even cast a warming charm over you to protect your…" he trailed off, leering at her breasts as he licked his lips and lingered over the word, "… assets. Unless you would like a treatment with oil that would do the same?"

"Oh!" Ginny gasped, blushing deeper now. Cautiously, she raised one red eyebrow. "You have everything planned out then?"

"Of course I do," he said, trying not to sound put out by the question. 

He even had planned a little treat for his own eyes. Looking at her arse, he knew his last round of slaps had been aimed just high enough so that he would be able to gaze the tips of his handprints all night, and no one would be the wiser. 

Not even Ginny.

"May I go to the loo now, sir, so that I can prepare?" she asked coyly.

"You may," he said, putting the dress on her dressing table before he leaned in very close to her ear and whispered, "but if you wash your cunt, we'll just have to make it nice and wet again before we leave."

Her breathing sped up rapidly before she whispered, "Promise?"


	14. Surprises –– Ginny

True to his word, as soon as she was showered and dressed, he raised the skirt of her dress, fondled her arse and stroked her pussy. 

“We’re going to a party, Severus,” Ginny sighed. Already moist with arousal, his touch made her wetter still. “You must remember to enjoy yourself.”

“Fun and enjoyment. If only I had a Remembrall,” he snorted a bit nastily and looked at her with black derisive eyes. “Perhaps I can pinch Longbottom’s.”

“I’m sure I can think of better ways to remind you, sir!” A saucy smile on her lips, she stroked his smooth face. “After all, there are many compartments on that train.”

“I see,” he drawled and slapped her arse smartly. “You have it all figured out then, my shameless little trollop.” 

Blushing fiercely, Ginny flung her arms around Severus’s neck, kissed his cheek and held him as they Apparated to King’s Cross, Platform Nine and Three Quarters. 

Smoke from the scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express drifted over their heads. As Ginny straightened her dress, he pulled her into his arms and wrapped his black cloak around them both. A group of four people emerged from the mist, walking up to the middle carriage. 

“Ginny!” Ron waved at his sister, and nodded curtly at her escort, “And… Snape.”

Then Ron adjusted the sparkling ruby pin on his black cravat as if breathing had suddenly become a bit hard. Nonetheless Ginny appreciated her brother’s efforts at courtesy. Looking him over, she realised that his dark grey twill coat and trousers were a vast improvement to the old-fashioned dress robes he had previously worn on official occasions. 

“Finally parked all right!” said Ron, tugged his jacket sleeve down over his arm and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

Next to him stood Lavender Brown in a floaty turquoise dress. A pink silk ribbon with a small bow on top of her head held back her curly honey blonde hair.

“It’s a good thing Hermione drove though,” Lavender whispered to Ginny. “Ron still thinks a Supersensory Charm can make up for that mirror thingy.”

“I have complete faith Ron will pass the test eventually,” Hermione said with a laugh.

In a carmine pair of wide legged trousers with a high fitted waist, and a short-sleeved white cotton blouse on top, which buttoned down all the way and had a small pointy collar, Hermione reminded Ginny of some German Muggle actress from very old movies. Her friend’s usually bushy hair was exceptionally sleek and shiny, and charmed in a wavy faux bob. 

Lavender, of course, was quick to agree with Hermione. “Sure, he will. Eventually!”

“I know it’s rotten of me to ask but…” Ginny hesitated, trying hard to conceal her apprehension.

“We haven’t seen Potter for the last day or two,” said Astoria, happily insensible. There was a moment of awkwardness from which she recovered swiftly and smirked. “What? I must not tell lies! Besides we were all thinking it.”

Clinging to her girlfriend, Astoria appeared a bit unsteady on her very high heels. Yet, she brazenly wore the same green leather mini dress that had caused Harry so much offence. Her rich brown hair was done up in a messy half-bouffant. The rosy tint of her glossy lips seemed slightly smeared. Realising she wasn’t the only one in a skimpy outfit, there was no malice in Ginny’s giggle, only relief. 

“That’s what you get for taking up with a Slytherin, ‘Mione,” Ron muttered, a bit uncomfortable.

Ginny winced but there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Severus’s face when he argued softly. 

“And yet, Weasley, is it not bravery rather than cunning to speak the unvarnished truth?”

“Maybe,” said Ron, not entirely convinced and changed the subject. “Shame the rest of the family can’t make it, eh?”

It was only three days till Christmas, and Fleur and Angelina had set their minds on cooking this year’s family feast. Of course her mother couldn’t be dissuaded from supervising her daughters-in-law. Secretly Ginny wondered if it was to exclude foie gras, fougasse and tourtière from the menu or to break up some racy food fights.

“Quite,” Ginny nodded half-heartedly as she felt Severus’s hand slipping sneakily under her dress for a quick squeeze of her naked breast. Feeling her nipple harden instantly, she fought to suppress a moan. “Perhaps we should get inside?”

“Terrific idea!” exclaimed Hermione brightly.

Severus’s hand on Ginny’s shoulder, they followed the others up the golden steps that led into the train. As they stepped through a sliding glass door into the main carriage, it became clear that some major Charm and Transfiguration work had been performed for the occasion. The inside was like a palace in miniature. The walls were rich, smooth, golden wood, picked out in shining marquetry, which depicted medallions of lions, snakes, badgers and eagles. They stood on a soft, deep red carpet and the charmed chandeliers bathed the passengers in a rosy glow. The carriage looked lovely, all crisp ivory linen, sparkling glass and deep fringed arm-chairs upholstered in smoky blue.

“How brilliant,” breathed Ginny, wide-eyed at her surroundings, while the rest of their small group moved on to mingle.

“Blinding splendour to lead young witches astray,” Severus sneered.

But she saw him sneak a glance at the buffet and knew the feast, surely provided by the Hogwarts kitchen elves, would sway him eventually. Next to mince pies, honey glazed ham, roast goose, chestnut stuffing, Brussels sprouts and potatoes, there was an assortment of desserts – trifle, Tunis cake and a Christmas pudding that was dark and moist with black treacle which stood in contrast to the creamy vanilla custard at its side.

“There is no need to look so dreadfully enthusiastic.” It was Professor McGonagall, wearing green textured dress robes, a black pointed hat with three thin feathers stuck to the brim and her mouth in the thinnest of thin lines. “Kindly move along, Severus. You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Hello, Professor McGonagall!” said Ginny politely.

“Miss Weasley,” her former Head of House peered sternly over her glasses at Ginny and Severus. “I heard from Professor Sprout about this. Am I right in assuming that it is a more recent development and I do not have to give you a talk on school regulations?” 

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” answered Ginny as firmly as she dared.

“Good,” said Professor McGonagall crisply. “Because Miss Weasley, lectures are like principles; necessary, of course, but terribly awkward at a party.”

“Pray tell, Minerva,” Severus finally interrupted his former colleague lazily. “Have you got anything to drink in this benighted place?”

“Parkinson,” Professor McGonagall barked. “Look alive! And get Professor Snape some of that special Firewhisky.”

“Of course, Headmistress,” simpered the young witch deferentially and sauntered over to the bar.

Ginny frowned a bit at the red tartan fabric of Pansy Parkinson’s robes and how she had almost swallowed the first part of ‘headmistress’.

“Incredible how you’re not racked by exhaustion from the War. Taking on Parkinson as an assistant, Minerva?” Severus drawled, his eyes glinting. “An act of true courage! Personally, I never thought she’d amount to more than beautification charms.”

“Parkinson will do just fine,” said Professor McGonagall gruffly and made a dismissive gesture, her glasses flashing ominously. “I’m more worried about your godson’s drunken antics.”

She pointed at the bar where Draco Malfoy suspended a rum-soaked sugarloaf and set it on fire over a bowl filled with mulled wine and spices. 

“How touchingly maternal,” he taunted her a little. “And employing Narcissa as the new ‘Defence Against The Dark Arts’ teacher was another bold and compassionate move, I’m sure?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Severus,” she said irritably, nostrils wide and mouth very thin. “You know nobody lasts very long in this position. Besides, the Ministry of Magic had me choose between her and Potter. And after everything Miss Granger told me about his troubled disposition…”

While Ginny was merely listening to the gibes and quips between her two former teachers, Harry coming up as a topic made her feel quite uncomfortable. Gradually her face began to discompose. When Pansy returned Ginny grabbed the glass of Firewhisky and downed it in one swig.

“Wotcher, Weasley,” said Pansy, leaning over so that her dark brown hair tickled Ginny’s face. “Not happy to see your former boy toy?”

She turned around. Sure enough, there was Harry, Romilda Vane clutching his arm. He glared at Severus through his little round glasses. Ginny could tell that whatever was coming would be very serious indeed.


	15. Observations –– Astoria

As much as she wanted to show Hermione just how brave she was, when faced with Draco at one end of the car and Harry Potter at the other, Astoria couldn't help but grab her lover's hand and hold on for dear life. The gentle hand, which had given her so much pleasure naught ten minutes before Ron almost knocked over a street lamp while trying to park the car out on the street, squeezed back comfortingly. 

"It'll be alright," Hermione whispered into her ear.

Astoria nodded back, trying to relax as Harry's eyes slid over everyone in the car. She thought he looked very much like a viper about to strike, especially when his eyes narrowed over Ginny. Her heart went out to the girl, though she looked quite capable of striking back at whatever Harry had to give. 

In her almost non-existent dress, which Astoria had also bought in a rather inviting colour of richly pale pink, she looked like a naughty, saucy archangel, especially with her shockingly red hair flowing over her shoulders. It was an odd juxtaposition to Professor Snape, who could have been Death himself in his severe black robes that only seemed to accentuate his power, just like they had in school. He'd never known it, but half of the Slytherin girls, Daphne and herself included, had all fancied him at one point or another over the course of their education. Shame that a Gryffindor should get him… but as she leaned a little against her own Gryffindor, she definitely understood the appeal.

"Well, well, well, look at who is all here," Harry said cockily, breaking Astoria's reverie with a voice that was slightly slurred. 

Astoria could smell the alcoholic fumes from where she stood, the smell of cheap Muggle whiskey making her eyes water slightly. 

Merciful Morgana! How the mighty had fallen.

Harry's eyes ogled her, despite the presence of the exceedingly beautiful woman at his side. The look made Astoria want to cover herself. She didn't understand what made Harry tick – he was so nasty to her, though in turn he had looked at her then and now as though he wanted to… possess her. The thought made her a little ill.

"All of my former best friends, together in one room. Granger, and her little Slytherin toy," Harry continued, and the hand gripped Astoria's tightened painfully. 

"Ron, and his blonde bimbo," he said nastily as Ron's face turned an interesting shade of maroon.

"And Snape, with his little slut. Sloppy seconds, isn't it?" Harry spit out as Severus's face turned the colour of the snow outside, except for the high splotches of red on his cheeks.

"MR. POTTER!" Minerva yelled, her face now gone white with suppressed fury. "The only reason you are even allowed to be at this party is because you are Miss Vane's date. If you would like to stay on this train, you had better learn to hold your tongue and apologise to everyone you just insulted. Immediately."

Harry sneered with an expression worthy of their old Potions Professor, but said nothing as the car door opened and Horace Slughorn rushed in with Cho and Neville trailing behind. 

"How now, Minerva? Severus? Is that a bottle of Ogden's I see? Pansy, fetch me a glass, be a love," he added as he rested his hands on his ever increasing waistline. 

Astoria couldn't help but giggle a little as Pansy rolled her eyes and went back to the bar, sloshing a drink into a spotted glass before bringing it back to their pompously proud old Head of House.

"Cheers," Slughorn said, tidily knocking back the drink in one gulp. 

Slughorn looked around the room as though he was finally noticing that there were people there other than the Headmistress, Snape, and poor Pansy. He didn't even notice her, but then again he never had and honestly Astoria expected nothing less.

"Ginny, Harry, Hermione! Good to see my old members of the Slug Club here at Minerva's little party. I was just telling Cormac the other day – you all remember Cormac, old member of the club, now a Keeper for Ireland – I told Cormac how much I wished I could get the old gang together for a little reunion. And you even brought old Rupert with you, didn't you Hermione? Always knew you would wind up together. Have a ring on your finger yet, old girl?" he asked while motioning for a refill on his glass. This time Cho grabbed it, earning a grateful look from Pansy.

"No, Professor Slughorn," Hermione said, slipping her hand and arm now around Astoria's waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze, "Actually Ron is with Lavender Brown, and I'm with – "

"Who's Ron?" Slughorn asked, looking confused as he was ushered to the side by Pomona Sprout. "And Ginny! Why are you standing so close to old Professor Snape when Harry is here? Don't you young chaps ever stake your claim on your ladies anymore?"

Astoria watched one of Professor Snape's hands slide possessively around Ginny's waist, caressing her skin as though it were the finest silk in the country. Her mouth went a little dry, especially when she saw the gooseflesh appear on Ginny's skin in response. 

"Ron's the boy you've been calling Rupert for years, you idiot," Pomona said as she opened the door for little Professor Flitwick and Ernie Macmillan. 

"And Hermione and Astoria have joined our team, you blind old man," Rolanda added as she waved at the two girls before slapping Pomona's soft bottom, earning a little squeal of delight.

"And Ginny and Harry broke up months ago, even I know that," Filius said as he stamped the snow off of his boots. "She's with Professor Snape now. Evening, Severus."

Severus nodded irreverently at the diminutive Professor as he attempted to close the carriage door behind the group that had arrived last, though he needed help from Cho to secure it against the ice cold wind outside. When they were finally done with the task, he placed a charm over it to keep it good and tightly shut.

"Are we all here, Minerva?" Filius asked, panting slightly.

"Yes, I think we are," the Headmistress said.

She cast her Patronus to let the conductor know it was time for them to leave the station. Presently, the scenery began to shift and the train chugged merrily away from the station, headed to Hogsmeade. The motion of the cars and the gentle sway, as well as the sweet tidings of welcome and merriment from Professor Sprout and Madam Hooch seemed to lighten the mood a little, and people began serving themselves from the generous spread. Astoria smirked as she watched Professor Snape go right to the sweets.

Nothing ever changed.

Astoria let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding when Draco looked up from his musings over his pudding and finally acknowledged her. The expression in his cold, grey eyes wasn't one of malice, not anymore at least. He just tilted his head at her, his eyes glancing to Hermione's face before settling back to hers. His smile was a little vacant, but not malicious or unhappy when it spread across his lips.

She smiled back, uncertain at first but then more happily when Hermione leaned to her ear and whispered, "Let's away for minute, don't you think?"

Nodding, she followed her to the connecting car, leaving the group behind them. This car was just as decadently decorated as the first, though lined with sumptuous sofas in all of the House colours. Another bar was set up at the end; the golden, amber, and clear liquids glowed in the soft light of the chandeliers overhead.

Hermione sat down on one of the sofas, made of red velvet as deeply coloured as the carpet, and motioned for Astoria to join her. When she made to sit down next to her Hermione shook her head.

"In my lap, witch. Straddle me!" she commanded.

"I can't do that in this dress, 'Mione," Astoria said, feeling the leather constrict as she tried to part her legs as asked. 

Hermione reached out and shoved the tight skirt of her dress up to her hips, showing off the freshly waxed and smooth skin between Astoria's legs, a thin line of brown hair the only indication that hair had ever grown there at all.

"That's better," Hermione said.

So it was. Astoria straddled Hermione's lap, the contact between the rough fabric of her trousers and her smooth labia maddeningly sensual and Hermione arched her hips up against hers. Brown eyes sparkled with delight as she sank her hands into the already mussed hair and brought their lips together in a branding kiss. Astoria gasped against her mouth – Hermione's ardour continued to amaze her as their relationship progressed and deepened over the last few months. A warm, silken tongue slipped into her mouth, and she was lost in a haze of passion and heat.

"You taste delicious," Hermione said as she pulled away, lowering her lips to kiss Astoria's creamy white neck.

"So do you," Astoria gasped. "Like vanilla biscuits."

"And what else?" Hermione asked as she slid her hands against her soft folds.

Astoria blushed deeply, not wanting to admit what the other musky and slightly salty flavour in Hermione's hot mouth had been. She ground her hips against the red tipped, but smoothly filed fingers and sighed. 

"Tell me," Hermione asked invitingly as a short, slim finger slid into Astoria’s waiting pussy. "And I'll make you come quickly."

"Me – you taste like me," Astoria moaned as the finger began to move.

"You better believe I do. And I want more of the cream I was enjoying before we were interrupted."

As if by command, Astoria's pussy released a little gush of wet heat against the fingers, which Hermione immediately brought up to her mouth, sighing as she sucked them clean. Then the fingers were back to where they started, making little circles against the pink clit that had been so recently licked and suckled.

"Perfect," she whispered as she brought Astoria's head down for another scorching kiss.


	16. Mellow –– Draco

“Parkinson, I know it’s the hols, but there are to be no frivolities with Malfoy or anyone else for that matter,” Professor McGonagall said sternly and Pansy nodded fervently.

Blast! His hopes for a quickie in the loos were dashed just like that. Draco stared sullenly into flames so hot they turned blue, watching the rum soaked sugarloaf that levitated over the mulled wine dissolve slowly. Then again, he hadn’t seen his mother for a good while now. It was probably a fair assumption that she hid in the lavatory surrounded by the smell of faded lily of the valley perfume and the stale smoke of her cigarillos. Better not to run into her when he was having it away with Pansy or whoever. Not that it was likely now anyway. 

A curious mixture of Hogwarts staff party and Dumbledore’s Army reunion, the whole affair put Draco in a sulky mood. Of course, if it hadn’t been for his mother’s cunning deception they’d be all rotting in Azkaban and if it weren’t for her teaching job, they’d have truly gone down in the wizarding world. Somehow it seemed to take forever for his father’s assets to be unfrozen by the Ministry. But really, why did his mother have to bring him as her plus one? Draco sighed as he caught scraps of conversations around him.

“Without wishing to be censorious,” Potter, totally sloshed, laughed like a drain. “I’m bound to say that Cho Wood sounds quite daft. All you need to do is add a ‘p’ to your first name now.”

Evidently nobody else thought that joke about the young witch’s soon-to-be married name was particularly funny. Chang looked quite harassed indeed. Draco wondered whether he could hit her up for Puddlemere United tickets. It was poor fun drinking alone, and didn’t cheer him up. On the bright side, the little chocolate cakes his mother got from Madam Pomfrey did. He popped another one into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, feeling mellower by the minute.

“It’s all a load of tosh!” cried the Weasley girl full of emotion and threw her arms around Chang. “I’m so sorry, I’ve been a right cow to you when we were at school and all because of that bloody tosser.”

“It’s okay, Ginny,” said Chang soothingly, stroking the girl’s flaming hair. “You’re a lovely person really. You just made a mistake!”

Soppy drivel! Draco wondered idly whether the flimsy cream silk of Weasley’s dress might get caught in the black sequins of Chang’s and tear. It was merely his godfather’s menacing figure in the background that prevented him from helping things along with a suitable spell. 

Meanwhile Potter had moved on to make a tit out of himself elsewhere. It was curious really, Draco thought he should perhaps feel some sort of kinship with the guy. After all, he had read all about Weasley’s slutty cheating ways in his aunt’s issues of ‘Witch Weekly’ while babysitting his cousin. And he refused to be embarrassed about it. One could only watch a toddler change its nose and hair colour so many times.

“Come along now, Ginny,” said Snape and guided her towards the glass door that connected to the next carriage. “Let’s get your lip gloss fixed.”

Draco let out a low, sneering laugh. No, he couldn’t feel sorry for Potter. In fact, he would have given Snape a high five if he thought it would have been appreciated. Besides, he reasoned, his situation was completely different. And he held firm to that logic even when Granger returned to the carriage with Astoria in tow, his former fiancée’s hair even messier than before.

“Merlin’s beard! These are mad times we live in,” Draco heard Slughorn’s voice, hoarse and flustered. “Please, explain that team thing again, Pomona!”

With frank speech (‘eating pussy’, ‘lip service’, ‘tipping the velvet’) and a caustic smile, Blaise had cleared up that very thing for Draco months ago. Granted, his friend had also shown him some dirty photos that were pretty illuminating. In the end, Draco figured, if that was what was required to make Astoria happy then better it be Granger than him. Between that realisation and Pomfrey’s funny little chocolate cakes, he had really mellowed out. And it was a good thing too. Anything not to go barmy like Potter.

Finally, the entire sugarloaf had dissolved into the mulled wine. Draco ate another cake and washed it down with the burnt punch. Looking around the room, he thought for a brief moment, he saw double. Relief washed over him when he realised it were actually the Patil twins who played Exploding Snap and did Daisyroot Draught shots with Thomas and Finnegan in the corner. 

“Dear me, Severus has found himself a bride,” his mother’s haughty sniff pulled him out of his dreamy state of mind. “And what a peculiar choice!”

“Clearly. That jammy git,” said Draco in his usual bored drawl for he knew what his mother was implying. “I should really find one for myself. A more acceptable one anyway.”

“Well,” remarked Narcissa eyeing the mulled wine and cake crumbs on the bar disdainfully. “A fine way you choose to go about it!”

An enchanted piano was grinding out the first chords to ‘A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love’. Draco’s gaze fell on the two blonde witches at the other end of the bar. Loony Ravenclaw or naïve Hufflepuff – what would annoy his mother more? Better not to take any chances.

“Lovegood, Abbott,” he called smoothly, his grey eyes glittering. “Care to dance?”


	17. Soul –– Horace

Horace Slughorn was a man of simple pleasures. 

Good whisky, the likes of which he was holding in his hand, was one. Delicious food, like the spread before him on the table, was another. Engaging company, like most of the wizards and witches around him was the most important.

He'd come to this party with the intentions of being able to rekindle some of the connections with his more prized students… but things weren't exactly going to his plan, and dash it if he wasn't feeling a little left out. Maybe it was time to retire after all – good thing he took on Cho as an assistant when he did. 

Watching the people around the room, a snorting noise in the far corner by the bar caught his attention. Horace sighed heavily as he saw the black haired young man teeter over a chair in the effort to sit down in it.

Poor Harry. 

Horace looked at him more closely; almost disgusted by the way he was tossing back whiskey just as rapidly as that beautiful dark haired creature, who had come in on his arm could bring them to him. All the while he was giving Ginny and Severus the most hateful glances he'd ever seen come off of another person. 

Such a sad state of affairs. And he'd had such hopes for the boy. Perhaps best to pull back a little until he got himself to rights again. Wouldn't want his name involved if Harry snapped, would he? 

Twisting his moustache thoughtfully, Horace regarded the couple of the night. How in Merlin's name did that happen? Seriously, if that smarmy dark old man could get such a pretty gal on his arm, there might be hope for a return of ‘The Slug’ yet! They were such an odd couple – Severus with his dark and not too attractive, but passable looks. He had been in the Club, back when Lily was… in… 

Horace choked back a small gasp, but covered it by coughing when Minerva looked up at him with concern. He waved his hand at her and smiled, showing her not to worry.

Lily. It still hurt to think about that one. 

A bright spot of light caused Ginny's hair to glow like a flame, distracting him from his maudlin thoughts. Horace smiled at the titian haired beauty, who returned it in kind… oh, such a divine girl. Always was too, one of the reasons she was in the old Club of course – not to mention her potential as a Quidditch player. And look at her now! Chaser for the Harpies under Gwenog (shame she couldn't make it tonight), and obviously still very fit though in the professional league, not an ounce of pudge on her body. Whoops, there went a little ham on his vest, thank goodness his own little bulge kept it from falling to the floor. 

Horace saw a couple of red marks low on her back. Must have been a bad day at practice. He'd have to give her a Pain Relieving Potion to – oh, ha! She had her own Potions Master now, didn't she? Ah, well.

His bright green eyes trailed over to the spot where Draco had been sitting... now, where did he go? Horace hadn't been close to Draco or any of his friends. A wise choice he used to stand by. Although he sometimes wondered if he could have made a difference, especially when he thought of the Mark that still branded the boy's skin.

He'd heard from Narcissa, Cissy of course to Horace who was still Sluggy to her, about his spot of bad luck with sweet little Astoria. The girl at least looked happy enough, she'd been one of his too after the school reopened, though why she was sitting on Hermione's lap and… was she… noooo, that couldn't be right, could it? 

He really needed to ask Rolanda more about that "changing teams" thing. Neither of the girls played Quidditch that he remembered at least. Maybe they were in an amateur league together. He'd heard Draco say something about "tipping the velvet". Horace vowed to ask Pomona what that was all about – maybe it was a Herbology term he didn't know, probably something to do with Velvety Rugwompts.

Oh, there was Draco, dancing over by the piano that Filius had charmed to play, but how could he be dancing with both Luna and Hannah? Perhaps blondes did have more fun, especially when in a fun little group like that. Back in his day in the Slytherin House, when his hair had still been a very pleasing colour of straw blonde, ‘The Slug’ had quite a bit of fun with his crowd… but they never danced as closely as those three did. He couldn't even tell where everyone's hands were – oh, damn, out of Ogden's again…

And here's good old Cho with a glass in hand, ahead of the game as usual. He gave her a little wink as she went back to talk to Seamus and Rupert. Now, she made a perfect match with getting together with Oliver Wood. He'd never taught him in school, and what a shame that was indeed! Best Keeper Puddlemere ever had, and such a nice dinner partner whenever he was at the school to visit Cho. Why, just last night when Oliver came to visit for the holiday Horace had insisted, absolutely insisted, on having them over for dinner. Oliver hadn't been by for a visit in almost three months, and goodness knows he had wanted a good catch-up with the boy. Planned twenty courses with the head house-elf. Shame they insisted on leaving before dessert, long Apparation and all from the Puddlemere Clubhouse.

Speaking of dessert… 

Glancing back at the seat Draco had occupied, he saw a neat little stack of chocolate cakes. And they looked really tasty; someone must have been to Honeydukes and got the dark stuff he was so fond of and made them just for him. Surely Draco wouldn't miss just one of the tempting little things.


	18. Opinions –– Severus

Outside the windows the sleet was slicing down harder and harder, once they got further north it’d most likely turn into snow. Not that one could hear it pattering against the glass though due to the music from the enchanted piano and all the different conversations inside.

They had moved on to the second carriage a little while ago, but after Ginny got caught up in a conversation with Wood and her brother on Quidditch tactics, Severus had decided to go back to the ample buffet – jam tarts and a nice cup of tea in mind. 

A voice broke into his thoughts. “I feel like more than snogging, ‘Mione, don’t you?” 

From the corner of his eye he saw Greengrass sprawled across Granger’s lap, her hands running down her lover’s neck, before releasing the top three buttons of the neat white blouse and slipping her hand in to cup a handful of her breast. 

The comment brought a blush to Granger’s cheeks. Interesting – not that he had given it too much thought but something had made him think Granger played the dominant part in this relationship. But it seemed like the two witches were keen on switching things up. Greengrass leaned in closer, kissing and sucking and biting Granger’s lips. 

His thin mouth twisted into a dry smile as he realised that a sense of perverse pride made him want to award ten points to Slytherin. Severus turned his focus back to the gorgeous spread on the table. Jellies in four different colours – gooseberry, apricot, raspberry, blackcurrant. A spoonful of each surely couldn’t hurt. 

“In fact, I think you will go to the first compartment in the third carriage, take off your trousers, get on your hands and knees, and wait like a good witch!”

At the first shock of astonished embarrassment, Granger’s eyes widened but soon shone brightly as she kissed the tips of each finger on the small hand that had previously found its way under her blouse. Perhaps that warranted fifteen points for Slytherin after all. Severus decided on some clotted cream.

A few seats over Horace still appeared utterly confused. 

“Who do you think about when you have a bit of a diddle?“ Severus heard Lovegood ask his former colleague airily. She was wearing a pair of red glittery baubles as earrings, which bounced dangerously when she nodded her head. “For a while I used to think about finding a Blibbering Humdinger but then it turned out I had Wrackspurts in my ears and they made my brain go all fuzzy. Now I mostly think of Neville.”

“Luna, you do realise, of course, this is not really helping,” said Filius awkwardly. “See here, Horace, there are witches who are romantically interested in witches, and wizards who are romantically interested in wizards. It’s all quite natural really. In fact, St. Mungo’s has recently issued a pamphlet on the matter.”

With a sigh Severus bit into a jam tart. Ten points to Ravenclaw for thoroughness. Had it been up to him, he would have forgone ‘The Talk’ and simply handed out the bleeding leaflet.

“How very fascinating!” Horace’s cheerful face grew perplexed, digesting this new information. “Still… all very well for Hermione, I mean she is the brightest witch of her age in the end. And I’m sure these witches and wizards are very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, but I personally fancy a pleasant witch with a prominent chin.”

The piano started playing ‘You Charmed The Heart Right Out Of Me’. Somewhere in the corner Severus saw Draco groping that Hufflepuff Abbott. Severus raised his eyebrows. Now that’d give Lucius a fit. 

“Professor Grubbly-Plank looks like she wants to dance,” remarked Lovegood dreamily, pointing at the grey-haired witch who was smoking a curved pipe at the other end of the carriage.

Appearing very excited, Horace’s coils of fat heaved as he rose ponderously to his feet and puffed himself up.

“I’ll have you know, this broken-down old buffer knows a gentle Bossa Nova!” 

So it was the return of ‘The Slug’ after all. Severus snorted mockingly through his nose and secretly awarded five points to Slytherin anyway. Taking his tea and plate of sweets to the next carriage, he sank into one of the red velvet sofas with a sigh of satisfaction and anticipation. 

“Parkinson, you’re a witch not Sleeping Beauty!” The little ornamental horns on the shoulders of Minerva’s dress robes quivered. “Point your wand, focus and imagine the process!”

With tremendous surprise, Severus watched the chandelier turn into a mirror ball. Despite himself, he admired Minerva’s dauntless teaching skills. A few months ago, Parkinson performing such advanced Transfiguration magic would have alarmed him more than putting Longbottom in front of cauldron again. 

“Oh dear, being Dumbledore’s favourite has not done that boy any good,” said Narcissa with false concern as she sat down beside him, gently and smoothly while keeping her knees primly together. “The girl though, I know she did an internship with Poppy Pomfrey, but – do you happen to know whether she is from… a good family, Severus?”

“Miss Vane? Oh yes, indeed,” he sneered, drizzling some raspberry jelly on a biscuit. It hadn’t escaped him how Narcissa had stopped herself from saying ‘pureblood’. “However, you must have noticed her rather pushy and self-confident ways.”

“I’ll say! But it’s impossible to find a good Slytherin match these days,” she sniffed. “And I heard she caught Potter with ‘Beguiling Bubbles’ from that… shop.”

“Sneaky and manipulative,” said Severus mockingly, wondering whether it would offend Narcissa’s sensibilities if he simply ate the jam with a spoon. “Truly exceptional qualities in a Gryffindor!”

“As you must know,” she smiled as if it was a casual remark, but of course he felt the barb in her words.

“Indeed,” he snorted. “Better go and woo her away from Potter then and place her in Draco’s arms. Imagine Lucius finding out about that Hufflepuff my godson is currently snogging. I think he wouldn’t be a box of birds, do you?”

With a haunted expression Narcissa hurried away and Severus thought he could finally have the last of his biscuits in peace. Just as he took another sip of his tea, he saw Hagrid waving a hand at him, thoroughly scaring Septima Vector who was passing, by knocking off her orange silk hennin.

“Snape, yeh great prune!” Hagrid grunted and slumped into an armchair opposite of Severus. “Yer the wee hen that never layed away. ‘Course I never was great shakes at magic, really, but I’d still hex yeh into next week.” The armchair creaked dangerously under his height and weight. “An’ I used ter defend yeh an’ told Harry yeh weren’t plottin’ his downfall. An’ Ginny’s no simperin’ young witch vyin’ for yer attention. Yeh gave her tha’ Amortentia potion, didn’ yeh?”

“And why would I do that?” drawled Severus lazily.

Hagrid scratched his head, obviously taken aback by the question. “’Cos yer evil, tha’s why!”

“Ah yes,” said Severus silkily. “There’s that. And yet there was no plotting and no potion.”

“Blimey,” Hagrid’s mouth dropped slightly open. “I know Harry’s being rather difficult of late but I gotta tell yeh –”

It probably wasn’t a great loss that he would never know what Hagrid had to tell him. Yet he wished the reason for it wasn’t the commotion at the other end of the carriage. Wildly waving about his wand, Potter slouched on a barstool. In his other hand he held a bottle of Firewhisky that he’d drunk down to the dregs. 

“Think everyone’s taking the piss now, Gin? Wait till you’re fat with his get!” Potter snorted nastily.

Suddenly a jet of liquid spurted from his nose. He tried to swipe at it with the back of his sleeve but yet more bogey poured from his nostrils and turned into a colony of black bats. They flapped their wings angrily before attacking him. It truly was an impressive hex! Severus waited a moment before he made his way over to the bar and cast a counter-curse.

Ginny’s wand hand was still shaking when he guided her through a glass door and another, into an empty compartment a couple of carriages down.

“Dropped a clanger, didn’t I?” said Ginny, a bit breathless as she sat down on the bench, her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the ground.

He nearly laughed, wondering whether she wanted a reward or a punishment.


	19. Interlude –– Harry

Furious, Harry stumbled out of the loo. It had taken quite a while to get all the slime off his face. Romilda, who really should have helped him, was nowhere to be found, which annoyed him even more. Was it his fault that Snape, Ginny and the whole sordid affair got on his wick? Certainly not!

“Parkinson,” he growled at the young witch who tilted a window at the end of the corridor, past a row of closed compartments. “What are you doing here?”

She lit a fag and lingered at the carriage door. On her pug-like face was a mocking smile. There was also a dry twinkle in her green eyes. Harry ran his fingers through his untidy black hair that stuck up at the back as usual.

“If you’re looking for Weasley, it’s the fourth carriage, second compartment,” she smirked.

There was something in her voice that seemed to mean: you’re a bit of a damned prat, my lad. For a brief moment Harry hesitated, glanced at Pansy, then he pushed his glasses up his nose and unsteadily made his way down the corridor.


	20. Inspection –– Hermione

Hermione waited in the third carriage, like the good little witch she was. The compartment she'd chosen, and marked as such by hanging her wristwatch from the handle of the sliding door, had been Transfigured from its previous form as a plain cart for the school chattel. Someone, Minerva she supposed – though Pansy did seem to really be picking up well on advanced Transfiguration techniques – had transformed it into a private sitting room. It was outfitted in dark greens, from the thick forest coloured carpets and darkly emerald wallpaper, to a damask covered fainting couch that was close to the colour of pine needles. Astoria loved green as much as Hermione loved the colour red, even though House ties were a thing of the past.

She had removed her carmine trousers and knickers just as she had been instructed, and for good measure had also removed her bra and blouse – though she left on the heels that gave her five extra inches of height. They were dangerous, and were just as red as the neatly folded garments that sat on the floor next to the sliding door. 

She looked up to the window in hopes of catching a view of the snowy world outside, but found that due to the low light of the carriage against the black of the midnight sky outside, the glass reflected the interior of the room just as a looking glass would. Gasping, as wantonly as she hoped she would be soon, she saw just how lewdly and overtly sexual she looked as she knelt on the couch on all fours, her arse pale and creamy white, face just as pale though scattered with golden freckles and coloured pink with a blush of anticipation. Her lips were as red as the small rubies that glittered in her ears, and trembled a little as she inhaled an unsteady breath as she waited for her lover to appear. 

Presently, she heard the main door to the car open with a little hiss and shut in the same manner. But it wasn't Astoria – she heard the low velvety tones of Snape's voice murmur something, then heard Ginny's soft voice whisper back something very excitedly. Their footsteps passed by, though she could have sworn the heavier stamp of Snape's boots slowed in front of the door behind her. Hermione lowered her head and held her breath, needless as she realised the steps never stopped and were now further away. A door down the narrow corridor slid open and shut loudly, and then there was no more sound at all.

"Were you expecting someone?"

Hermione would have jumped, but she knew that voice too well now for it to surprise her anymore. She looked into the glass, and saw her beautiful girl smiling behind her. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror before Astoria's gaze went to Hermione's arse, and more specifically to the folds of wet flesh between her thighs. 

Astoria licked her pink lips suggestively as she sat the watch on top of the stack of clothes. "Such an inviting sight – your red Gryffindor cunt, wet and waiting for my Slytherin tongue." She removed the skin-tight leather dress from her body, revealing that she had not worn a single thing underneath it.

Hermione continued to watch her as Astoria closed her eyes and let her hands move over her own body, gliding over her neck first before running over and squeezing her full breasts, pinching the already erect nipples until they strained against her fingers, begging to be kissed. Down the hands went, caressing the belly and hip before they gently stroked the hairless pussy – though they only lingered there briefly before her eyes flashed open wide, the violet-blue meeting chocolate brown in the reflection.

"Cancel the charm on your hair, sweet one. I want to see you as you really are."

Hermione nodded and touched the wand that was laying in front of her, and suddenly her hair changed from the sleek, wavy bob of curls back into the familiar wild, frizzy mass of brown.

"Better," Astoria said. Hermione watched as she kneeled between her legs and looked at the sight of her uplifted arse and tidily waxed pussy on display in front of her. Her eyes flicked back up to Hermione's, and she winked slightly as she said, "Muffliato! Keep your eyes on the glass. I want you to watch. And you can scream as loud as you like now."

And then Astoria’s mouth descended onto Hermione’s cunt, sucking the wet lips of her pussy into her mouth and licking every surface that her tongue could reach. Hermione gasped, wanting to close her eyes and just enjoy the sensations her lover’s mouth was creating, but, ever one who was mindful about following instructions, she did as was asked, and watched the gorgeous creature behind her eat out her pussy with such joyful vigour that it made her all the more excited, all the more wet, and all the more in love with her.

A small finger slid over her swollen clit. Hermione could just see Astoria's hand sneaking between her thighs to touch the sensitive nub of flesh, rubbing in time with the stroke of her tongue in and out of the tight passage of her cunt.

She cried out, overwhelmed by the combination of sensations. Her eyes closed briefly, but snapped back open when the warm mouth left her scorching hot centre.

"What? Why?" she called out, unable to see Astoria in the reflection of the room. 

"Shhh, my fuckable little witch," Astoria murmured. 

Hermione finally did see her in the corner of the tiny room, kneeling and looking through her small leather handbag. She pulled out… Hermione shivered and realised she'd brought it – the little electric toothbrush she'd painstakingly charmed and modified with Transfiguration work until it ran solely on magic… and had become a small, handheld vibrator. Instead of brushes at the tip now, there was a small, circular disk that perfectly fit just over the clit and in turn provided some very targeted stimulation when it was desired.

"Good girls do get rewarded," Astoria said as the device came to life if her hands, at the highest speed. "And I want you to come as hard and strong as the train we are on." 

With that, she knelt between Hermione’s thighs once more and went back to her ministrations with even more determination as she put the disk directly over her lover's wet and painfully swollen clit.

"Ohhh my gods don't stop!" Hermione cried out as she came immediately, shaking and trembling so hard she collapsed on her hands as her hips ground into Astoria's face and mouth. 

Oh it was so good, so good!

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as she came again. 

Hermione quite lost her mind as she bit into her hand to the point she thought she tasted blood, though somehow she managed to keep her eyes on the witch behind her, whose eyes were twinkling in the candlelight as she continued to enjoy the feast in front of her.

"One more," Astoria murmured. "Flip onto your back – I want your eyes all to myself now."

Hermione did as she was told and felt the heavy, slippery fabric caress the skin of her back. Astoria climbed onto the couch between Hermione’s thighs and wrapped her silken legs around her waist while keeping a hand between them, slipping two very clever fingers into her quim. 

Astoria's face was a complete mess now, smeary and wet with desire. Her makeup would have to be redone completely before they could rejoin the group, as would Hermione's. 

Not that it mattered. 

Hermione moaned as the digits curled and found the spot that made her nerves jump around and sing. Then the fingers and hand began to thrust.

"Eyes on me," Astoria said, holding Hermione's gaze with her own as the fingers and hand ground into her. She felt a slender, vibrating handle slide in her empty hand. Gripping it firmly, Hermione knew what she was being asked as she moved it in between her lover's legs, stroking the folds blindly with it until Astoria moaned loudly. 

Bingo.

This time they came together, eyes locked on one another as the sleeping world passed by them outside, and the other attendants of the party walked by their compartment, unaware of the magic created by the two witches inside.


	21. Explorations –– Hannah

“Are you sure, darling?” Professor Sprout took her hand and pressed it. “We’re talking about young Malfoy after all.”

Truthfully, she really wasn’t but Hannah still nodded. Since Ernie had started as Professor Flitwick’s assistant and she had taken over the ‘Leaky Cauldron’, time for lovemaking had been rare. And while they had been such close friends for many years now, it had never been an exclusive arrangement. 

If she was honest, the eggnog had gone to her head a bit. There was no doubt that Draco danced well and the women rather liked that – well, apart from Professor McGonagall apparently who had sent Professor Sprout over to give her a stern talking to about lewd behaviour. Be that as it may, knowing all of Draco’s petty prejudices, Hannah had never imagined he’d want to partner her. 

Now her former Head of House subtly suggested another sort of dance. The blond Syltherin waved at her from the bar with another mug of eggnog and her cheeks blushed a pretty colour that resembled her pink sapphire earrings. 

“He seems so lost, though,” said Hannah uncertainly, “and well, he didn’t have the heart to top Dumbledore after all. He can’t be all bad, can he?”

“You have your wand?” asked Professor Sprout in concern. 

Again Hannah nodded, more nervous by the minute. All these questions, it was like preparing for the O.W.L.s all over again. Any minute now Madam Pomfrey would make her drink a Calming Draught.

“Oh, you mustn’t worry about that,” said Hannah in a hushed voice, not quite sure whether she was reassuring Professor Sprout or herself. “I know a jinx that’ll turn him into a gigantic slug if it comes to that.”

Better not to mention how she had once lost her head completely and multiplied a ferret into a flock of flamingos. 

“Good,” Professor Sprout told her briskly. “Third carriage, second compartment. That’ll keep you out of Minerva’s sight.” She pulled a jar and two vials from her dress pockets. “A performance enhancement ointment… maca powder, horny goat weed extract, ginger juice and ground doxy wings. You might need it, I say, he has obviously indulged in Poppy’s little cakes.” 

Hannah felt dreadfully relieved. That would indeed come in handy. The two vials needed no further explanation, as she knew their contents quite well. Edible massage oil, peppermint flavoured for a bit of a tingle. And the Potion for after. 

“Thank you, Professor Sprout!” Hannah placed the jar and vials carefully in her reticule.

“Best of luck, Hannah dear,” said her former teacher, shaking her head. “Go and be a good girl, now.”

It was surprisingly easy to take a bottle of pumpkin juice from the bar and convince Draco to follow her. Passing through the second carriage, Hannah flinched. Unlike Draco, Harry had always seemed so nice. Now he threw insults at poor Ginny like they were curses. Truly, she hadn’t seen Harry lose it like that since that one time when Fay Dunbar had beat him at Gobstones.

“Dear, dear,” Draco sneered as they passed through the glass door into the third carriage. “No wonder that big oaf Hagrid was always so fond of Potter. Must have known he’d turn into one of his pets that can burn, sting and bite all at once.”

He was trying to look concerned, but underneath Hannah could see a nasty sort of pleased expression that was very familiar. But then she remembered that unlike Harry, Draco had never lashed out at his former fiancée, not even at Hermione for that matter although he had taken to calling her ‘that bloody witch’. 

As the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron she saw a lot after all. While Harry would usually turn up early and get drunk on Firewhisky until she had to give Ron or Hermione a Floo call, pleading to take him home, Draco would come in – sometimes with Blaise, sometimes with Pansy – order chips and pickled eel and cry into a glass of Fishy Green Ale. In his anguish Hannah sensed a strange exaltation. And sometimes she wondered if in his pain he didn’t find an infinitely subtle pleasure.

“There are souls, you know, that feel a voluptuous joy in laceration,” said Hannah but Draco only stared at her blankly.

She sighed and led him into the compartment. To her surprise it was very much transformed. The decor had an earthy-feel to it with plants hanging from the ceiling in macramé baskets. Burnished copper touchings with plush, cosy yellow sofas and a fluffy black carpet reminded her of the Hufflepuff common room. It was cheerful and soothing at the same time.

Draco fell back onto the sofa and took a swig from the bottle of pumpkin juice. Hannah carefully placed her reticule on the small coffee table. Then she undid the pewter clasps that held her plum coloured georgette dress together and Vanished her black satin knickers.

Mouth gaping wide in amazement, it took a moment until he pulled himself together. She sat down next to him and placed her legs on his lap.

“It’s so blonde and glossy,” croaked Draco as he smoothed back her hair. “Reminds me of my mum’s… well the blonde parts anyway.”

Hannah sighed, and in her mind she vowed to be kind and tolerant but she really didn’t want to talk about his mother. So she pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt. And snogged him. Hard.

“Woah, Abbott!” he breathed, coming up for air.

“Call me Hannah,” she demanded firmly, much to her own surprise. 

“Okay, Hannah,” he said as if trying it on for size. “Hannah…”

Gaze locking onto his faded Dark Mark, she swallowed and a sudden panic surged in her stomach.

“Oh that,” he snorted bitterly. Then something seemed to occur to him and he added softly, “… your mum. I’m sorry.”

A lump bobbed in her throat. 

“Thanks,” said Hannah. 

She found she didn’t want to talk about mothers in general. As Draco was momentarily speechless, she decided to unbutton his shirt and trousers. He swallowed hard as if making up his mind to play coy. It was rather peculiar really. Hadn’t he been hailed ‘the Slytherin sex god’ while they’d been at Hogwarts?

“So who have you been with?” she asked incidentally. “I’ll tell if you tell.”

Draco lapsed into a thoughtful silence, while Hannah took a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Pansy, obviously,” said Draco quietly, his grey eyes glinting. “And Daphne. Though that was before… you know. I wish father had arranged a marriage with her. But our name isn’t what it used to be.”

A defiant frown on his smooth young brow, he clenched his hands. While not afraid of toil, this was so much harder than she had anticipated. More snogging was in order. When she finally pulled away, her blue eyes glowed and her breath came quickly.

“Cedric, Ernie and Zacharias before he turned out to be a total prat,” said Hannah matter-of-factly, figuring it was her turn. 

Re-positioning herself, she helped him out of his shirt. He had lovely skin, smooth and white. And he hadn’t got a hair on his chest. 

“So, you’ve never been with anyone outside your house either?” Draco grinned broadly before the sullen look on his face returned. “Sweet Circe, my father would disown me if he knew I was with a Hufflepuff.”

“Oh Draco, don’t talk such bilge. What harm is it going to do to him?” Hannah rolled her eyes. “You mustn’t take that sort of thing so tragically. After all, if the War has shown us anything, we’re fools if we don’t take what pleasure we can.”

He looked at her, a bit unfocused, yet with unguarded amazement. She was sitting on his lap, patient and collected, and quite unconcerned of the seriousness of the situation. Then she Vanished his trousers.

“You’re rather cunning,” breathed Draco. “Are you sure they sorted you in the right house?”

“Positive,” Hannah nodded. “Accio vial!”

With sensual motions her soft hands massaged the peppermint flavoured oil into his chest and shoulders. The movement was relaxing, the scent was titillating. She rubbed a bit of it on her neatly shaved pussy.

“Lay on your side,” she whispered after snogging him again.

“Ab– Hannah… I don’t know if I–“ Her pussy so close to his face, there was a hint of panic in his voice.

“The oil is quite tasty,” she suggested. “Why don’t you try it?”

Wondering what it would take to overcome his reluctance, Hannah took his cock in her hand and stroked it, her other hand cupping his bollocks. Draco stifled a moan when she rubbed them gently through the thin sac of skin. Then she softly licked along his shaft.

“Gods,” he groaned and Hannah wondered whether that was his first blowjob. Surely Pansy would have –

She kept up her affections to his balls, taking them into her hot mouth, rolling them gently with her tongue and taking a good long suck. Finally he seemed willing to reciprocate. Carefully he licked with his flat tongue over her mound, lapping up the peppermint oil from her skin, then her juices as he went further down along her slit. As he was tentatively teasing the wet entrance of her pussy, she squirmed lightly.

“That feels good, Draco,” she moaned, hoping to encourage him further.

And finally, nice and soft, he suckled on her nub. Amazing. Hannah sighed and took his cock into her mouth and sucked hard. Running her lips up and down, she felt the vibrations of his moans against her clit and her nether lips. She moved faster, her mouth now sucking even harder, working her hand at the base of his dick in just the right motion. Draco whispered words of praise against her pussy before he teased her nub with his tongue again. Hannah shortly came up for air and licked her lips before taking him in again. Perhaps they wouldn’t need Professor Sprout’s ointment after all.


	22. Tremors –– Harry

Harry glanced back at Pansy just before he left the carriage. He'd never noticed her before, other than to notice what a complete bitch she could be when she was provoked. Just like the dog she was, he mused nastily, before casting a drying charm on his trousers where he must have splashed a little water on himself.

But when he looked back at her, he couldn't help but realise that she actually might be a striking looking witch, even if she was decked out in tartan that looked like it belonged on her Granny's sofa. Her hair, nut brown and a little frizzled at the ends, was pulled back in a knot low on her neck that seemed to accentuate just how long and graceful it was. Her skin was dark, as though she spent too much time out in the sun without taking the proper Sun Potion, but it was golden too, her nose sprinkled with a few brown freckles. Hell, if she hadn't been Pansy, he might think for a minute that she was actually a little pretty; even her face didn't look so squashed in this light.

Maybe it was the alcohol he'd been swilling all afternoon and night, maybe it was his complete and utter anger over seeing Ginny in nothing but a see-through dress with Snape leering at her. 

Maybe it was the chocolate cake he'd eaten greedily before they'd moved into the second carriage. 

For a minute he almost thought he felt his cock twitch a little.

"Sod off, Potter, and go have a wank while listening to Snape bugger your old girl," she said, taking an angry drag off her cigarette.

Well, that broke the spell. He gave her the finger and walked through the sliding doors and into the night air. 

Balls it was cold! He stamped his feet noisily as he walked into the next carriage, warming them back up. He recognized where he was as being one of the carriages with private compartments that he and his old "friends" had preferred to sit in while travelling to and from Hogwarts. 

The first door, the compartment they'd travelled together in the most, was locked tight. Not a sound came from within. 

Harry wanted to take a peek inside, and maybe sit and pretend that they were all just on a trip to school once again, before Voldemort returned and life was still relatively simple. He noticed a small crack in the blinds, where he could just peek in…

But when he looked into the green room that reminded him of the Forbidden Forest on a spring day, he saw Astoria, sitting on a fainting couch and completely nude, smoking a fag with one hand and holding Hermione's head between her legs with the other. Her back arched off the couch, pushing out her breasts as she appeared to scream, soundlessly, as Hermione pulled back and kissed her way up to her mouth.

He stumbled back against the wall and fought for control over the immediate reaction of his cock at the sight of the two witches – one of them his ex-best friend! – together.

Then he fought the urge to continue watching…

But he had a task to complete – and that task was in another carriage. And… maybe he could come back to this later; it didn't look like they were done yet. Passing by the rest of the compartments altogether, he opened the door between cars and started shivering again. 

It was even colder than it'd been at King's Cross, and there it'd been so frigid that he'd thought with a laugh that if he'd taken a piss out by the bins as he'd needed to, it might have frozen into an icicle before it hit the ground. He laughed again at the image as he stamped his feet back to life once he entered the fourth carriage. It was very warm in this one, so it didn't take him very long at all to warm back up.

This carriage was set up into compartments just like the one before, but this time there were only two. Now a little hesitant, he shook the handle on the first and found it wasn't locked. Opening his mouth slightly to start yelling at the occupants, he shut it just as quickly when he saw Wood, fast asleep on a large sofa with Cho nestled up to his side. Closing the door as softly as he could, considering how drunk he still was, he turned and walked to the second door further down the corridor.

It was locked. But he knew this was where they were – this was the end of the line, so to speak. He withdrew his wand from his pocket and cancelled the Muffling charm he was sure had been placed on the compartment and immediately heard the slap of a hand on bare skin.

_"Oh, sir, there, just like that."_

_"You don't get to tell me what to do, Ginny," Snape's muffled voice murmured as the sound happened again. "Or else I'll spank your little cunny raw."_

_"Promise?" Ginny moaned, and another slap echoed through Harry's brain. "Oh, sir - harder!"_

Harry's hands became fists and his blazing green eyes turned into dangerous, narrow slits. He wanted to scream and shout out his anger. He wanted to go in and strangle the pair of them. He wanted … 

He swallowed noisily and let his hands relax a little when he realised he wanted to watch.

With bated breath, he leaned against the door again, and waited.

_"Still so wet for me, Ginny. I'm glad I gave you a little finger work before we left."_

_"Me too, sir. But I've been afraid of staining my dress with it – it's why I haven't sat down the entire night."_

_"Perhaps I should remedy that for you, Ginny. Spread your legs! Show me how much you desire me."_

There was a little pause, the only sounds now were Harry's ragged breaths and his heart beating wildly in his ears.

_"It's just as wet as it felt against my hand. And salty and sweet like a treat from Honeydukes. Tell me, did it feel wrong, being so excited in front of your friends?"_

_"No," she moaned. "It never feels wrong."_

_"Even with you parading about with just a scrap of silk on your body, with my hands attending to your breasts every time I could manage?"_

_"No, never!"_

_"Did you like touching yourself in plain sight of them all, with only my leg hiding your lustful little desires?"_

_"Yes! Yes, sir – please!"_

_"Then you deserve a reward, Ginny. Most especially for your inspired use of your favourite hex."_

_"Reward me, sir, please! Just don't stop touching me."_

_"Never," he murmured._

And suddenly the slaps against her skin were no longer caused by a hand.

Harry realised he was stroking himself through his trousers, and pulled his hand back, disgusted.

"What a dirty slut he's made her," he said, spitting out the words as he heard Ginny scream.

_"Severus! Make me come again, just one more – oh gods!"_

_"Want to keep coming?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Your wish is my command."_

_"Right there, right there, right – oh!!"_

_"Ginny!"_

Harry's lips curled as he realised that nasty bastard had just spilt his seed inside Ginny's body, defiling her with his come. He really hoped she liked ugly, sallow skinned brats who would assuredly run around throwing hexes before the age of five, saying the word "Voldemort" first instead of "Mummy".

_"Thank you for my reward, sir. I might not be able to walk back."_

The sound of dark laughter filled Harry's ears. That git knew how to laugh?

_"I've fucked you harder and for longer, and you never had trouble walking before."_

_"At least I need to get cleaned up, sir. I think there's a loo between the two compartments."_

_"Don't you want to…"_

_"It'll be fine, it's only a few steps."_

Harry took a step back as the door opened. 

Ginny was in front of him, dress half undone and her breasts, which were covered in livid love bites, bare for the world to see. Snape was behind her, still completely dressed and looking very smug until his eyes narrowed upon him. When Ginny looked up and saw Harry glaring at her, she squealed and covered herself, turned into Snape's waiting arms. That action exposed her half bared bum that was covered in large handprints. Soon the sight was gone as Snape wrapped her in his cloak.

"Potter! What are you doing here?" Snape stared down his overlarge nose at him. “One might think you are… up to something.”

“I don’t go looking for trouble,” said Harry nettled. “Trouble usually finds me, ‘sir’.”

A stifled sob escaped Ginny’s throat as she buried herself deeper in Snape’s robes, whose black eyes glinted with malice through his curtain of greasy hair. It made Harry want to curse Snape into a thousand slimy pieces.

“You don’t have to play the darling little slut for that greasy old git. It’s foul and really indecent,” begged Harry softly. “Please! I take you back, Gin!” 

“Oh, what a prig you are, Harry!” cried Ginny. “I could hardly enjoy anything less.”

“She’s not going to throw herself on your generosity, Potter,” said Snape in his silkiest voice. “Go away. I don’t want to see you again tonight.”

Harry felt his anger rising again. Anger and helplessness. Why wouldn’t Ginny come back to him? Wasn’t he a legend in the wizarding world? Hadn’t she been in love with him for the past nine years? Yet there she was, pressed against his worst enemy, weeping and he was holding her hand tenderly. If only he had never aided the Wizengamot in clearing Snape of all charges after the War! None of this would have ever happened! Harry’s teeth were tight clenched. He wanted to smash things. He wanted to destroy things. He wanted –

“Vermillious!” drawled Snape, pointing his wand at Harry’s feet. 

A jet of red sparks flew from the tip, stung his toes as if they were plague rats. Blindly, with a sudden instinct of escape from that whole abominable farce, Harry took to his heels and ran as hard as he could.


	23. Validation –– Narcissa

In an unfortunate turn of events, Narcissa found herself on a cosy sofa between Filius Flitwick and Luna Lovegood. Maybe worst of all, she had actually liked that heavy black velvet gown with the shiny onyx bead embroidery on its long sleeves, which she had only purchased a few weeks ago at Twilfitt and Tatting's. In the dim candlelight, however, it now seemed to almost blend into the midnight blue upholstery of the sofa.

Narcissa sighed and turned her eye to the centre of the room where Slughorn led Grubbly-Plank in a passionate Bossa Nova. Comfortable in the dance and coasting through the steps, he seemed intent on charming the old witch with surprising agility and wit. Tap, three steps to the right and tap. Oh, she would have really liked to dance! Perhaps she should have brought Lucius after all. But it was better that she hadn’t. With a haunted expression she glanced to her left. 

“How are you, Luna?” asked Narcissa, thinking how frightfully bad form it had been of Lucius and Bellatrix to lock the pureblood girl in the cellar with a Muggleborn and a goblin. “I’m glad, you don’t look in the least unwell.”

That was a genuine apology at least by her standards. It was a dreadful situation really. The problem with this gathering or any gathering these days was that there was hardly a person around her family hadn’t harmed in some way or other. Then again, there was also hardly a person around she wasn’t related to somehow. Be that as it may, the girl did not seem perturbed by Narcissa’s vagueness.

“Your house was not your home,” said Luna in a sing-song voice. “I understand. It’s okay, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Then the girl leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

“Thank you,” said Narcissa with dignity, looking up and around. “Is there… a mistletoe?”

“I hope not,” said Luna very seriously. “They are often infested with Nargles.”

Narcissa’s lips tightened, as she rubbed her forehead wearily with one finger. Romilda Vane was one elusive witch and truthfully, Narcissa was almost ready to settle for any suitable bride for her son, even a Ravenclaw, after the whole Greengrass debacle. As always, Lucius had proven unable for the more delicate manoeuvres when he had allowed the parents to refuse Draco the older daughter. And naturally, Lucius had now grown despondent over the whole affair and it was up to Narcissa to fix it. In the end, the Lovegoods might be fairly eccentric but ‘The Quibbler’ had sold quite well in recent years, so old Xenophilius must have set a dowry aside for the girl.

“I know I am probably not to speak of this, but has your father promised you to anyone, child?” said Narcissa, putting a hand under Luna’s chin. 

“He promised we’d go to Sweden this hols,” said Luna dreamily. “To search for Crumple Horned-Snorkacks.”

“Now, you show wonderful spirit,” remarked Narcissa cautiously. “But I meant ‘promised you in marriage’.”

“Oh,” said Luna quietly. “I don’t know. Everyone thinks I’m a bit odd, you know. Some people call me ‘Loony’ Lovegood actually. And Neville’s gran is quite the formidable witch!”

Thinking about the stuffed vulture Augusta Longbottom usually wore on her hat, Narcissa’s mouth twisted uncomfortably. Such a shame! If that woman’s grandson had honest intentions towards the Lovegood girl, she couldn’t possibly intervene. 

“What you must remember,” squeaked Filius Flitwick perched on a pile of damask cushions on her other side, “is that these are different times. However hard you are working to ensure a positive outcome, I’m afraid young Draco may have his own ideas.”

“Quite so. But he’s just a boy,” said Narcissa unhappily, straightening her back. 

Then it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen her son in quite a while. A sudden panic washed over her. Draco couldn’t have possibly run off with that pink-faced Hufflepuff? Merciful Morgana, it was Andromeda all over again!

“Please excuse me,” she said, got up and walked as quickly as etiquette allowed over to the doors and into the next carriage.

Searching the place thoroughly with her eyes, she couldn’t find Draco anywhere. At the other end of the car, Severus and his little girl were huddled on a settee. He had wrapped her in what looked like quite the expensive niffler fur coat and spoke to her in what seemed like a soothing voice. 

Narcissa sighed a little, remembering a long ago party Sluggy had hosted just before the hols, when she had come back for a visit while going through a temporary breakup with Lucius, and Severus had still been mooning after Lily Evans. They’d kissed in a darkened corridor just beyond the revelry. And that kiss had been… oh, she shivered a little just with the memory of what his lips had done to her body. The very thought of it still made her blush ever so slightly.

Across from them, Sybill Trelawney was giving a tealeaves reading to that buxom blonde witch who worked at Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions. It looked like her fiancé, one of those Weasley boys, had organised the session. A sweet gesture, Narcissa had to admit.

The Divination professor moved her gauzy spangled shawl around, the shiny emerald bangles on her arm tinkling wildly as her left hand swilled the dregs around the pink cup three times, then turned the cup upside-down on its saucer.

“The key… my dear, you have a great change coming,” said Sybill Trewlaney. “The cauldron and the crib… so both in the workplace and at home. Dear, dear… this is a happy cup indeed!”

“You have acquitted yourself rather well at Madam Primpernelle’s, Lav!” said the Weasley boy patting the girl’s hand proudly. “It’s only natural she’d want to give you more responsibilities!”

“And a baby, Ron! Isn’t that exciting?” squealed Lavender happily.

Narcissa thought the boy looked a bit green around the gills. Meanwhile, Sybill gave the pair a dewy smile.

Potter, leaning by one of the windows, jeered nastily, “Yeah, isn’t that exciting, Won Won? Mind, I buy that you’ll knock Lav Lav up soon but her getting a promotion? It’s not like she’s got a lot up there, there, if you know what I mean? That is above her tits.” 

The Weasley boy, Ron, paled and a fierce anger seemed to seize him.

“Oh well, Harry, it’s late,” he burst out angrily, brandishing his wand. “You've got to be getting into your strait jacket, mate! I'll call your broomstick.”

“Careful with that wand, Won Won!” snorted Potter. “Next thing you’ll belch and have slugs dribbling out of your mouth.”

“POTTER,” barked Minerva McGonagall. “The times I had to caution you this evening have assumed alarming proportions, wouldn’t you agree? I don’t suppose we will see any improvement from you in the remaining hours. Professor Malfoy, would you please take charge of this distressing situation!”

Next to her Septima Vector nodded gravely. Everybody else seemed confused. Narcissa included. Was she supposed to duel Potter? That hadn’t ended well for either Lucius or Bellatrix. This was enough to make her break into a cold sweat. But no, no – everyone always underestimated her. She remembered well how Lucius had been both sulky and amused when she had got her appointment as professor for “Defence Against The Dark Arts”. And just thinking about that dreadful house elf that had thrown itself at Potter and stolen her wand during the War! She would show them all, she would –

Narcissa pointed her wand, “Locomotor Wibbly! Matriosca Captura!”

As was to be expected, Potter’s legs collapsed, before a cloud of dark grey smoke surrounded him. A brief moment later, it cleared and in Potter’s place stood a wooden nesting doll, about half the boy’s size with his picture painted on it in vibrant colours.

“You… you… Transfigured him?” the buxom blonde witch stared at her in disbelief.

“Don’t be absurd, Miss Brown!” said the Headmistress crisply. “It’s a Grimhold.”

Everyone appeared to be still quite shocked. The Weasley boy, however, seemed to have caught on.

“Oh, it’s like these Ministry cars that look small but inside…”

“Yes,” confirmed Minerva McGonagall impatiently. “Before they built Azkaban, this is what was used to detain Dark Wizards.” Her nostrils were flared as she shook her head, her expression unreadable. “Right, I must say, that was different.” There was a pause. “Parkinson! Do take… Mr. Potter to one of the compartments. You may release him from his imprisonment but I would ask you to stay with him. He has been cursed quite a bit tonight and besides, we could all do with a respite from his antics.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Narcissa lowered her eyes coyly and tried to hide her euphoria.


	24. Definition –– Neville

Neville sat in the third compartment in the third carriage with his head buried in his hands for the third time that night, feeling completely miserable and alone.

All he'd wanted was to find the loo and wash his face before the party started. There was always a smear of dirt that he missed, and he'd wanted to look nice tonight. _She_ was going to be there after all, and she always looked so pretty and smelled so lovely, a little like the yellow irises he'd taken to growing in his private greenhouse.

But the carriages had been so dark then, and when he'd popped his head in the door he had seen a sink in the corner, he'd thought he'd been in luck and would be able to rejoin the group quickly.

But no, what he'd thought had been a sink was actually an icy blue marble countertop that had reflected the light oddly. When he'd finally realised this after hastily shutting the door behind him and casting a quickly muttered, "Lumos," it had been too late, and the door had locked itself behind him and got stuck. He'd shouted "Alohomora" until he'd turned as blue in the face as the powdery blue carpet on the floor, but no one had heard him. He'd tried to take a nap at one point just to pass the time then, but he was too anxious to do anything more than pace around the room or sit and sulk.

This was _always_ his luck, wasn't it? Even after all this time, and even after surprising himself by killing Voldemort's snake in an act of passionately defiant rage, he was still the little boy who couldn't get anything right. 

Neville sighed as he thought about _her_. He had passed her in the first carriage when he arrived – they were both a bit early as usual. She'd been helping the Headmistress hang mistletoes by telling her the locations where it would be the least likely to attract Nargles. He grinned, despite being stuck in this room, when he remembered the expression on Minerva's face at her instructions. Then he'd tripped on a corner of the rug, earning an annoyed glare from Minerva and a concerned but amused glance from the blonde witch at her side. She was wearing velvet dress robes, the same shade of her eyes. When she moved about the room, the robes sparkled as gently as her eyes did when she laughed. 

He was still thinking about her when the door burst open with a loud bang. Neville looked up and saw Pansy Parkinson. He cringed, reflexively, even though she had shown herself to be different than she'd been as a student since starting as Minerva's assistant. If they could both get completely past old House loyalties, he might even consider her a friend. On most days, that was.

"Really, Longbotton? Wanking off to thoughts of your blonde princess?" Pansy said, smirking as she lit herself a cigarette and levitated what looked like a very large doll into the room. Was that… was that Harry’s picture painted on the side of it? What an odd game.

Neville glanced back at Pansy, who looked a little nervous as she poured herself a glass of gin from the crystal decanters that sat on a little indigo table next to the sliding door. 

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Leave now if you know what's good for you, Neville," Pansy hissed as she knocked back the tumbler of gin and poured herself another.

More confused than he could ever remember being, but not in the mood to argue, Neville just nodded and left the carriage, returning to the others though not before actually finding the loo and scrubbing the bit of dirt from his face that he correctly suspected had been just under his ear. He found the bulk of the party goers in the second carriage, everyone looking shocked and a little stunned except for Professor Malfoy, who gazed around the room with a slightly smug expression on her face.

"What did I miss?" he asked Ron, who was closest to the door, after seeing her on a sofa sitting next to Lavender Brown.

"Harry's just gone mental," Ron said. "Worse than ever."

"What set him off this time?" Neville asked, but he knew his answer immediately when he saw Professor Snape sitting in a corner with Ginny snuggled in his lap, the two of the looking so cosy and happy it made Neville a little weak with longing. 

He glanced back at _her_ , watching her stroke Lavender's hair a little absently as she hummed to herself.

"Yeah, that," Ron said, shaking his head. "It's not what I would have dreamed up for my little sister, but she's happy, so what of it?"

"And she's got a mind of her own, always has," Neville said. 

"Well, yeah, that too," Ron said. He looked up and winked. "What about you Neville? Are you ever going to make it official?"

"Make what official?" he asked, his voice catching a little on the last word.

"You and Hannah? Weren't you dating for a while?"

"Oh, that… nah, that ended months ago," Neville said, staring into glowing, silvery eyes that had flicked up to his for the briefest moment before turning to look at Professor Sprout, who looked like she was in the middle of telling one of her bawdier jokes.

Ron followed his eyes and grinned as he patted Neville on the back. "Then why don't you finally make _that_ happen. You two have been making those eyes at each other since the days of the DA. It doesn't take an Unspeakable in the Ever Locked Room to know how you really feel about her."

Neville nodded and ran a hand through his hair, making sure none of it was standing up and that he hadn't missed a leaf that always seemed to find a way to hide in the thick strands.

"Courage, Neville," he whispered to himself as he flashed a quick, but nervous, grin at Ron and walked up to her. He held his hand out to her and asked, "Care to… I mean, would you – what I mean is," he sputtered, sighing a little as those molten eyes shone up at him with complete understanding, just as they always did.

Luna took his hand and stood up, sighing happily as she looked back to Lavender and said, "I think Neville's finally decided that he wants to define our relationship."

Neville blushed but didn't deny it. "Join me, somewhere –"

"Private and muffled?" Luna finished, squeezing his hand gently as she led him back to the third carriage. 

Neville blushed darker, but only nodded as he followed the woman who knew his mind better than he knew his own. Wherever she led, he would gladly follow.


	25. Exposure –– Pansy

Through a gap in the midnight blue and bronze silk curtains Pansy watched snow starting to drift past the compartment window. Going through the magazines on the coffee table – ‘The Practical Potioneer’, ‘Challenges in Charming’, ‘Transfiguration Today’… frightfully boring, totally boring, marginally boring – she was relieved to find Cho’s back issues of ‘Witch Weekly’. They were about three hours from Hogsmeade, so that was about three hours until she was rid of Potter. Consequently, she had to find some sort of entertainment. 

Propping her legs up on the icy blue marble table, she saw Potter stir. Pansy had sat him on his hands and had glued his palms to the chair with a sticking charm. It had seemed prudent at the time. No way was she going to lock herself into a compartment with that nutter. Of course now that Potter was awake and she saw his green eyes sparkling with anger as he realised his predicament, perhaps a full body-bind curse would have been safer after all. At least she had placed his wand at the other end of the table and well out of his reach.

“What is this, Parkinson?” he snarled, writhing in his chair. “I can’t get up!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” smirked Pansy and took one long pull on her cigarette. “According to ‘Witch Weekly’ anyway.”

“You’re a lying slag –” His voice was a furious rasp, only silenced by the feeding cup she shoved in his face with a flick of her wand. 

A mixture of water, Pepper Up and Antidote to Common Poisons – an impromptu concoction that Madam Pomfrey hoped would sober the boy up. Yet, at the moment Potter was merely gurgling more insults, choking and finally swallowing the cocktail. 

“I’m sure that comment would sting a lot more if I actually understood the rest of your outburst,” Pansy said lazily, looking down at her magazine with fake interest. “But for the moment let’s pretend it’s had the desired effect, shall we?”

Another flick of her wand, the cup was back on the table and Potter took a deep breath.

“You’re a proper psycho, Parkinson,” he spat.

“What a revelation, Potter. I had no idea.” 

She turned the page, her cigarette burning between her fingertips. 

“Figures, you’d believe that rubbish.” His eyebrows inched together. “Probably still flattered that Skeeter called you ‘pretty and vivacious’, eh? Bet not even Malfoy lied so blatantly, no matter how much you simpered and groomed his sleek hair.”

Suddenly Potter’s words were met with a rush of blood to her ears. Her upper lip was slick with cold sweat as she remembered that sixth year train ride where Draco had bragged about his connection to the Dark Lord and she had been dumbfounded, and frankly pretty upset even though she had worked hard to conceal it. 

Later, when she had suggested they’d hand Potter over to Voldemort, she had felt very much the same and then some. Sometimes she wondered if Snape and McGonagall knew they hadn’t lied or exaggerated when they had defended her thus in front of the Wizengamot. 

Spurred to a fit of petty malice, Pansy giggled, “Ooh, jealous? Look at you, Potter, still so insecure. Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, and all that parading around at Ministry events making sure nobody forgets you’re the Chosen One…”

Pansy looked up at the compartment’s ceiling, which was painted with stars. Her toe bumped against the tea tray on the coffee table. Of course she’d rather had more gin, but it wouldn’t do disappointing the Headmistress. The tea had been too hot and too sweet though. She dropped the remains of the cigarette on the saucer she used as an ashtray. 

“Noticed my hair, have you?” sneered Potter. “Like you wouldn’t have it off with me in an airing cupboard. Especially after Malfoy binned you!”

She took out a silver cigarette case and struck a match, but her hand was shaking so that she could hardly manage it. That was one thing she didn’t want to get into. Not because she was still hung up on Draco, in fact, she found they did way better as friends. But she recalled that dead awful conversation between their fathers, which still made her go quite pale.

“Dreadful thing, Perseus!” Lucius Malfoy had smiled coldly, his pale eyes having strayed to Pansy. “Your daughter’s unfortunate slip where Harry Potter was concerned… why, I know she is rather fond of my son but, how to put this… Draco is, shall we say, otherwise engaged. But try not to worry too much, dear Pansy was always so eager, surely other opportunities will arise.”

Draco’s father had emphasized ‘opportunities’ in a way that made it clear whatever those were they wouldn’t be respectable.

Pansy took a deep breath. She couldn’t let Potter get to her. 

“Sure, I knew you’d be well up to it,” Pansy had tears in her eyes, and mostly those were tears of forced laughter indeed. “Considering my girlish wiles, my saucy ways, my immoral cunning… what’s a bout of ritual humiliation, getting my private parts out in ‘Witch Weekly’? Weasley seemed very keen on it after all.”

Turning the pages of the magazine noisily, she found what she was looking for.

“Oh look, here,” Pansy shrieked with glee. “HARRY POTTER: TROUBLE OR TROUBLED… I’ll skip to the interesting bits: Blah blah blah … ‘what the ex-Potions Master of Hogwarts has to offer decades younger Miss Weasley that Potter could not? All we know for certain is that a very identifiable redhead has been seen on more than one occasion in front of Broomstix looking oh so very misty eyed at the toy broomsticks hovering in the front window. Perhaps a swarm of little Death Eaters are in the future for the popular Chaser, and she will have to hang up her uniform in favour of the maternity robes at Madam Malkin’s.’“

“You’re a washed-up slapper, Parkinson!” Potter said through his teeth, and then he laughed huskily at his own venom. “Ginny will come to her senses soon enough.”

“Truly?” she asked, very haughtily. “You think she’d want to trade a commanding and powerful wizard for a boy with a bag of tricks?”

Potter was white with rage. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” Pansy feigned innocent surprise. “Just something Granger told me about Dumbledore’s Army. You know, the little Disarming-Stunning-Patronus routine you taught your friends back when you still had any.”

“Hermione told _you_?” Potter croaked in disbelief.

Pansy smiled and nodded enthusiastically. Now, she wasn’t going to tell him how that had come about… in the wake of a hate-snogging session after the sixth year start-of-term feast. It was bad enough Blaise had seen them and still blackmailed her with the knowledge whenever he saw fit.

Her eyes twinkled because Potter was in distress, and she put her hand gently on his knee. 

“Want to hear more?” Pansy’s voice was a mocking rasp.

"No thanks," Potter huffed, closing his eyes and cringing away from her as best he could.

"What was that? You do? Goodie," Pansy said, trying to sound as cheerfully spiteful as possible as she sat back down on the cobalt blue sofa. 

She picked the magazine back up and took another long pull on her cigarette before she continued to her favourite bit. 

Exhaling a cloud of bluish grey smoke, she smiled as she read, "'I suspect the falling out with Miss Granger, former girlfriend of Weasley (who, let's be honest, is still half in love with her even though he puts on a brave face with the sadly clueless Lavender Brown on his arm), may have to do with her taking up with Slytherin beauty Astoria Greengrass' – oh admit it Potter, it's true isn't it? Can't stand that little 'Mione found her match in the Dungeons instead of the Tower, can you?"

"She could do better," he sniffed, then turned so red that Pansy stopped reading for a minute to stare at him.

"Curious about the Sapphic side of things?" she asked, smirking when she saw a hard bulge appear in his trousers.

"I most certainly am not," Potter hissed, shifting himself in his seat to hide his arousal.

"Oh, Potter," Pansy laughed. 

This required a thimbleful of gin, her employer's wishes be damned. She walked over to the indigo table and poured herself a jigger of the clear liquid into her teacup and tossed it back quickly before returning to her seat. 

"What have you seen?"

"I. Have. Seen. _Nothing_."

"Whatever you say," she said, going back to the paper and snuffing out the remains of her cigarette. "Then this should surprise you. 'Perhaps it's not the pairing of the two witches that caused the split, but Miss Granger's taste for the darker side of desire. There are whispers'', she lowered her voice dramatically for a little added flair, "'and rumours that she could be involved in certain activities that only Muggles and the most depraved of Death Eaters had a taste for.'"

Potter frowned and said, "It all looked pretty normal to –"

"Ah-ha! Gotcha," Pansy said triumphantly. "It wasn't your girlfriend you went to have a diddle to, it was your ex-best friend and her lover – oh, that's rich, even from you. And it wasn't the first time, was it? Tell me about the others. It would so make my day."

His thin lips turned white with rage as he glared at her through slitted, mutinous eyes. Pansy merely winked at him and continued reading.

"Blah blah blah, prim Daphne playing the healer and sister card… boring, boring, boring, Millicent still being an evil bitch – did you know she’s breeding cats and kneazles in the country? Anyway hey-oh, look at this! The coward is talking himself up to be a hero. Tell me Potter, what does the name 'Zacharias Smith' do to the old blood pressure?" 

She looked up and saw that his face had turned a dangerous colour of maroon, as though he were about to explode. Had she gone too far? Well, there was only one way to find out…

"'He's just not been right for a while now – everyone knows it. It's just kept hush-hush, because – well, he's Harry Potter for Merlin's sake," says Smith, who has been enjoying a rising', oh who cares about him trumping himself up. Here we go. 'Now that they're all done with him, his true colours have been outed for good, and no one likes what they see. No one likes a miserable, bullying little coward.'"

Steam was pouring out of Potter's ears. Pansy tried not to panic since is was a known side effect of the Pepper Up potion, but regardless the boy looked as though he were about to have some nervous fit or something worse. She put down the paper and pulled out her wand very slowly.

"Me a coward? Me?" he yelled. "I wasn't the one who pushed the Firsties out of the way to flee the castle faster! I fought Voldemort – I killed the bastard! I… I… I… oh gods," he moaned, before he did something Pansy never thought she'd see in her lifetime. 

Harry Potter burst into hot, angry, sad tears in front of her. Pansy was watching him beadily. What to do? More gin sounded good. But then she couldn’t give Potter anything to drink but water. Madam Pomfrey had been quite clear on this.

“Cliodna’s banshees!” Pansy snapped in a tone of revulsion, which she hoped came close to McGonagall’s. 

It didn’t stop Potter’s wailing though. 

Another approach then. One night not too long ago, she had sneaked up to the Astronomy Tower with Cho, Neville and Ernie where they talked over iced buns and tea laced with Firewhisky how they’d do things differently once they were Head of their respective Houses. And while Pansy didn’t necessarily see much wrong with how Snape had handled things, she had thought to be a bit more approachable. Now she had to remind herself that Potter was hardly your average homesick student or she’d have to kill that resolve right this instant.

“Do you want me to get Granger or Weasley or other Weasley?” said Pansy, uncertainly, a serious look strangely changing her lively, scornful face. 

“No!” exclaimed Potter.

Blushing furiously, he stamped his foot with sudden, angry violence. Obviously, he was annoyed with himself and vexed with her. She really should be more tactful. Without doubt, Ernie would have handled that better. Maybe even Neville. Cho not so much but only because it was Potter. 

In the dim candlelight Pansy could barely see Potter’s face, but she felt that he was so unhappy, that tears, unmanly tears that he obviously hated, still trickled down his blotchy cheeks. She felt quite helpless indeed. Fine, perhaps this had got a bit out of hand but really, what was she supposed to do? Clearly, Potter wouldn’t let her console him. Not that she was terribly comfortable with the idea anyway. The only way through this was to rile him up further. 

Pansy got up and stood behind him, ran her hand, with caressing fingers, through his untidy black hair. He gnashed his teeth, apparently he couldn’t bear being mussed about.

“I don’t want to be rude to you, darling,” she whispered in his ear. “But what does it take for you to stop whinging?” Her gaze dropped to his lap. “Do you want me to give you a handjob to calm you down?”

Abruptly, Potter’s head turned back.

“Employing the subtlety for which you’re renown, you vicious cunt,” he hissed. “Wanting to add me to your long list of conquests, do you?”

“Dear, dear,” Pansy giggled and ran her hands down his chest. “You didn’t say no.”

He shot her a defiant glare. “You’re well and truly insane, Parkinson, if you think –”

“– the Chosen One would have a romp with the treacherous tart who’d have sold him out to Voldemort?” she asked as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

“Exactly,” he gave a sardonic laugh.

Even a year ago, her stomach would have lurched, thinking about how most of their world saw her but now, she sat here with Potter, realising that despite all his glory he was without friends and purpose while she had both… it was utterly shocking.

“Right then,” she said, raising an eyebrow, calmly amused. “Shame, really!”

Despite all his cockiness, she could sense his discomfort, his palms helplessly stuck to the chair, completely at her mercy. Some instinct of cruelty made her press the advantage. Pansy very gently stroked his cheek, then planted a light kiss at the corner of his mouth. It was tender and showed such a petty spite that it truly delighted her.

Potter’s face burnt and he spat on the carpet in disgust. Sitting back down on the cobalt blue couch, Pansy smirked and leaned forward.

“That was so wantonly unkind of me,” she said, not remorseful at all because he wasn’t sobbing anymore. “Sure, your sweet girl rather enjoys a rough shag with Professor Snape, Weasley floats on a vanilla cloud since he’s shacked up with Brown, and Granger’s suffused with a blissful glow now that she’s eating Slytherin pussy. But I feel as if we are only going in circles around the problem. How would we ever move forwards?”

“Wow, I wonder… how could we?” said Potter sarcastically.

“I’ll be quite frank. You’re a prat, Potter. With the War over, you fear you’ll fall into oblivion,” said Pansy and lit another cigarette. “Your friends are quite happy to live in peace but you miss those crazy little adventures and resent them because they don’t.”

“So that’s it, is it?” he said loudly. “Your ‘opinion’…”

“Yes, Potter,” she said evenly and took a drag on her cigarette. “That’s it.”

It was obvious that even though he hated her, his exasperation was mingled with an unwilling admiration. He shuffled uneasily on his chair. Thinking, maybe, that she’d lose interest in a thing with the same suddenness with which she hankered for it, he cleared his throat.

“So this compartment,” he said and turned his head from one side to the other. “I don’t get it.”

“What? The Ravenclaw theme?” she asked mockingly. “I’m shocked, Potter. Truly, I thought you’d feel just as at home here as I do.”

It had been McGonagall’s idea to decorate four compartments according to the respective Houses. Little refuges from the main event for private discussions. When they had Transfigured the interior fittings, Pansy had suspected that it’d be fornication rather than conversation that’d take place there. Surely that was true enough for the Slytherin compartment with Granger and Greengrass inside. And hopefully soon too for the Gryffindor compartment if Neville finally pulled himself together. And whoever was in the Hufflepuff compartment… well.

Pansy glanced at her gold wristwatch and sighed. Two more hours till Hogsmeade.

“About that handjob…” Potter grinned.


	26. Persuasiveness –– Ernie

Ernie wandered into the fourth carriage, a little dazed after seeing Narcissa Malfoy turn Harry into a… what had she called it?

He frowned, deep in thought as he made his way to the gents’ toilet to freshen up. There were a lot of beautiful women at this party, after all, and it never hurt to make sure his hair was tidy and his teeth clean.

He was still frowning when he finally looked up and saw Madam Pomfrey standing outside the ladies’ room, looking very upset and worried as she knocked rapidly on the door.

"Can I be of any assistance, Poppy?" he asked, a little pompously even for his ears. 

Her first name still felt foreign on his tongue, even though she and their former professors insisted on the assistants calling them by their given names. Save, of course, for Professor Binns – who hadn't quite yet figured out that they were even there, even though he would be forced to take an assistant after the holidays. If he was honest, Ernie didn’t necessarily understand why. It wasn’t like Binns would suddenly drop dead leaving the position unfilled. But perhaps a more lively – let alone alive – teacher would make the subject more exciting or at least less soporific. 

For the moment, however, Poppy looked at him rather intently, so he decided to interrupt his musings and turned his attention back to the problem at hand.

"I don't think so, Ernie, but you are more than welcome to try," Poppy said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief she pulled from the front pocket of her starched white apron. "Poor Romilda locked herself in the ladies after Harry's outburst and hasn't come back out since."

"And which outburst was that?" Ernie asked. 

He stiffened, remembering their second year at Hogwarts when Ernie had tried to convince Hannah and Justin that something was seriously wrong with Harry, that his surviving Voldemort’s attack was merely a sign of the boy being a Dark Wizard who wanted to eliminate the competition. In the aftermath, of course, he had truly regretted his grave misjudgement, which he showed Harry by heartily patting his shoulder. Ernie was a jovial chap after all. And in all the years that followed he had never doubted Harry again, perhaps even idolised him a bit. So looking at his old friend now, how he turned into such an embarrassment, carrying so much anger in his heart, Ernie wondered how Harry could survive under the weight of so much tsuris. Yet again he had not gained any new insights when Poppy’s voice pulled him back into the here and now.

"The first one, I'm afraid," Poppy replied. "I've come back to check on her periodically to try to talk her into coming out, but she says she won't show her face until we get to Hogsmeade."

"I won't!" said a teary voice from beyond the door.

"Well thank goodness there's another loo in the third carriage or all the ladies on the train would be in a real fix," Ernie said loudly. "Wouldn't do for them to use the gents – it's probably full of snips and snails and puppy dog tails! Imagine having to go to the loo after Hagrid. Really, woman, I guess you are doing well to hide in there."

Very, very soft laughter came from within, as though the back of a hand was smothering it.

"Does she know about the grime, grim – does she know about that thing Narcissa did to Harry?" he whispered lowly.

"It was a Grimhold, Ernie. It wouldn't hurt you to open a textbook other than your advanced Charms books, you know," Poppy whispered back. She sighed. "No, and we aren't going to tell her if we can help it. She's mortified enough… having been associated with him for the last couple of weeks."

Ernie nodded thoughtfully before pushing a lock of golden blond hair from his forehead. 

"Best not to. She's had a crush on him for ages."

The voice now sounded indignant. "Not for ages, just since – "

"Since you tried to sneak him a box of sweets filled with a Love Potion? Nice try, Ro," Ernie said, a little louder.

The voice within huffed before going silent once more.

"Can I come in for a minute, or would you care to come out?" he asked as kindly as he could.

The voice whimpered a little before replying, "I just don't want anyone to see me."

"Would you like me to keep you company in one of the spare compartments then?" he asked, looking at Poppy who nodded enthusiastically.

The voice hesitated before answering, "Can you cast a Disillusionment charm on me beforehand?"

"And a Cheering charm, Ernie, she could use one," Poppy suggested.

Ernie nodded at the Mediwitch as he answered, "I will, but you need to let me in to do it."

The door's lock clicked, making both Poppy and Ernie sigh in relief.

"Thank heavens," Poppy said. "Can you manage from here? I better go check on Harry and make sure that Pansy hasn't over sedated him in her haste."

"I'll be fine," Ernie said, motioning Poppy to go before he opened the door to the loo and walked inside.

Blimey! So this is why girls went to bathrooms in groups. Ernie looked around the room, a little astonished. This place was huge, with a chandelier on the ceiling and two vanity tables laden with toiletries. If he was seeing things correctly, there looked to even be a garden tub in the back corner. The room hadn't appeared this big on the outside… then he laughed, realising this must have been why Filius was doing some last minute reading on Extension charms.

He peered around the corner of one of the vanities, which revealed a long gold brocade sofa where Romilda was sitting, holding a handkerchief to her mouth as she continued to cry softly.

Ernie sighed at the sight of her.

Even with her mascara smeared and her hair slightly tousled she was the best looking witch he'd seen… well, perhaps ever. Her dark hair was glossy with wild curls, and her darkly olive skin was as perfect as it had been at sixteen, which wasn't really that long ago, actually. He remembered she was one of the youngest in the group, two years behind him and the rest of the crowd who had been in Harry's year. When she finally noticed he was in the room, she looked up with dark, luminous eyes that still kept a few unshed tears.

"Hello, Ernie," she said, hiccupping as she tried to wipe her eyes with her soaking wet handkerchief.

"Here," he said, offering her one of his, the gold and black "EM" shimmering a little in the soft light of the room.

"Thank you," she said, going back to work at righting herself.

"Ready to go? I can cast the spell in a trice," he said, sitting down next to her after retrieving his wand from his back pocket.

"Can we stay here, just a little longer?" Romilda asked. She wrapped herself with her bare arms and shivered a little. Ernie hadn't noticed her dress before, a short red thing that left her arms and shoulders bare and didn't even cover her knees. He removed his own jacket and placed it over her shoulders, casting a Warming charm to warm both her and the jacket a little more.

"That should feel better," he said.

"It does." She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Thank you for being kind to me, Ernie."

"Pomona would have my head on a platter if she heard I hadn't been kind to a lady," he said, laughing as he remembered her beginning of the year talks about the opposite sex.

"And Rolanda along with her," Romilda said, smiling a little more through the tears. She shook her head. "It's still weird calling them by their first names, you know?"

"You think so too?" Ernie asked.

She nodded and looked at her hands. "I was still a student the year before last. It feels odd, to now be a sort of colleague."

"Oh, I wouldn't think too much into that," Ernie said a little boldly, even though most days he still shook in his boots a little to see Filius perform one of the more powerful charms in his repertoire. "Poppy wouldn't have waited for you to graduate to take an assistant if she didn't think you a powerful and caring witch."

Romilda nodded a little absently before looking back up. "Can we stay here, until we get to Hogsmeade? Will you stay with me and talk to me about anything other than that… than who I came here with?"

Ernie took his wand and pointed it at the door, locking it. He looked into Romilda's sad, dark eyes and got a little lost in there before he licked his lips and said, "I promise."


	27. Perplexity –– Cho

As the compartment door clicked shut, Cho exhaled, one hand on her racing heart. Oliver’s burly frame pressed against her back as he drowsily brushed away a strand of her silky black hair and kissed her neck. Perhaps there were more exciting ones, but Cho found she really liked this position. His strong arm around her delicate waist, his hand slowly wandering upwards, caressing her breast, while he nibbled on her earlobe. She mewled in delight. Of course they were both tired after all the work and training leading up to the hols – but now they were here, spooning on this surprisingly comfortable black velvet sofa, maybe… 

But that was when the shouting in the hallway started, and despite her shattered hopes for a lazy shag, Cho somehow managed not to sigh.

“I really hoped he wouldn’t be fit to roam around, he seemed completely pished before,” Oliver scowled his displeasure that Harry had apparently made enough of a recovery to haunt the corridors. “On the other hand, I can’t help thinking… I should have shown him how to behave the way gentlemen should.”

Cho smiled in the dark, “You mean when you told him to knock me off my broom if he had to?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Oliver rumbled. “You were just so bloody good and on a Comet Two-Sixty no less… and he had that bleeding Firebolt for Merlin’s sake.” There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice and he swallowed as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. “And I still shouldn’t have said that.”

“Oh no,” said Cho hurriedly. “Well, I just wanted to say… Oliver, I know how your ambition can sometimes get the better of you but really, Harry – he had always trouble coping now that I think about it.”

Her hand reached back and her fingers lightly traced down his cheek to the corner of his mouth.

“I hope you’re right,” he muttered and she felt his features soften just a bit. “It’s just that I was his captain and… I should set a good example! What if poaching Demelza Robins from the Heidelberg Harriers is wrong? ” 

He buried his face in her hair. A tiny frown appeared on her perfect brow. It was true that these tactics hadn’t worked out too well for Puddlemere when they had done the same thing with Wilda Griffith two years earlier. It had been such a sore spot for the Harpies, Cho still vividly remembered the riot that broke out during a game where the two teams faced off. Better not to think of it. 

“That’s hardly a horrible trick if they accept the transfer fee,” said Cho fiercely.

Oliver heaved a giant sigh, “No it’s not, is it?”

“It’s not,” she concurred, knowing how much finding a new chaser for his team was pressing on his nerves, causing sleepless nights. 

“Seriously,” he yawned, a fearful exhaustion in his voice. “How hard can it be to hit that bloody Quaffle?”

Yes, how hard could it be? Frankly, neither he as Puddlemere’s keeper nor she as the former seeker of her House team had any idea.

“My poor love,” she said. “You’re tired out.”

Suddenly the shouting outside stopped and they heard someone – Harry presumably – running away. Good riddance! Cho sighed heavily. Oliver was so stressed still and sleep was precious indeed. Hopefully if she let him rest now, they could find some other sort of release later.

Slowly and carefully she got up and slipped gracefully into her black satin flats. 

“Well, close your eyes a bit,” she finally whispered, biting the perfect curve of her lower lip. “And I’ll bring you back some Tunis cake… if Professor Slughorn has left any for the rest of us… I mean, you have barely eaten anything today.”

Oliver chuckled softly, “You’re a brick, Cho. I hope I say that often enough.”

“You do,” she said, smiling and stepped out of the compartment, sure Oliver would fall asleep again almost instantly.

In the corridor, the window-pane was covered in rime. Cho put her hand on it, murmured a heating charm, and then watched the snowflakes falling thickly upon the train. Indeed, the snow sifted down, blanketing everything, out of doors and probably in people’s minds as well. Suddenly she felt a bit drowsy herself, surrounded by the warmth inside the train. About three more hours and they’d arrive in Hogsmeade. It’d be good to be back home in Scotland.

Finally getting away from the window, she took a few steps down the hallway. Perhaps she could freshen up a bit. Cho walked up to the loo and found the door firmly shut. Then she heard a stifled sob or was it a giggle? So she tried the knob again, even attempted to unlock it with 'Alohamora'. But no success.

"Hello?” Cho knocked on the door. “Is everything alright in there?" 

“Shipshape and Bristol fashion,” came Ernie’s voice from the other side of the door, perhaps a bit more pompously than usual. “Not to worry, Cho!”

Now there was definitely a very female giggle. By Pasiphaë! Were there no open compartments for Ernie’s little assignation? Did it have to be the loo?

Cho faltered and let out a sigh. “You know you’re in the ladies’ room, do you?”

“I’m well aware. Thank you, Cho!” he answered breezily. There was a short pause before he added, “And I happen to have a charming young lady with me, if that helps my case…”

“Oh, immensely,” she rolled her eyes. Well, that was unsurprising, he was a Hufflepuff after all. And truly, Cho thought, sometimes when Ernie sounded less pompous and more suave, he almost reminded her a bit of Cedric. A little smile spread across her face and she shrugged her shoulders, “Fine. I’ll go now, Ernie.”

“Terrific! You’re a brick!”

Now if she hadn’t heard that before. Cho laughed softly.

In the end, she found the loo in between the House themed compartments of the next carriage, and thankfully the knob turned easily. Quickly she stepped in front of one of the lavish porcelain washbasins, opened the brass tap and let cold water run over her wrists. It felt so refreshing, she let out a happy sigh. After she closed the tap and dried her hands, Cho looked around the room properly. 

One couldn’t help but admire Pansy’s exceptional Transfiguration work. This wasn’t a simple lavatory but more of a boudoir. The walls were covered in pale pink satin cloth, and there were tall mirrors here and there lined with gaslights, giving the room a very warm and comforting glow. A cream-coloured damask chaise longue and a matching armchair stood opposite two ornate dressing tables and washbasins. 

“Can you believe it, ‘Mione? It’s so dreamy!” 

Cho started a little at the sound of Lavender’s voice, then she looked over to the chaise longue again where the two witches were cuddled closely together. It appeared as if Lavender’s eyes took on a wistful glaze as Hermione lovingly stroked her golden curls. 

“It is such good news, Lav!” said Hermione softly and planted a light kiss on Lavender’s lips. “It truly is.”

Only now did Cho notice that the pupils of Lavender’s eyes were enormous. Hermione’s words went wandering down the room and were thrown back from the walls as a whispering echo.

“Good and truly dreamy,” Astoria confirmed with a little smirk, picked up a crystal glass and bottle, and poured lavish amounts of gin over some ice cubes. “You look confused, Miss Chang. Gin and Tonic?”

“Oh, yes… fine,” Cho said in a hollow voice. 

With a nervous laugh she brushed a strand of her silky black hair back from her face and took the glass that Astoria handed to her. Only now did she realise that Ginny was also in the room – leaning over one of the dressing tables, trying in vain to clean and dry her scandalous little silk dress. 

How could she have missed all these people when she walked in here only a few minutes ago?

As her gaze wandered back to Lavender and Hermione, Cho took a sip of her drink, the unmistakable juniper taste cool and crisp on her tongue. 

“And how are you?” she asked the young brunette witch, still bewildered by the display in front of her. “Fine?”

“Sure,” Astoria smirked, patting Cho’s back gently. “Fine. Now that the excitement is over.”

Astoria followed Cho’s gaze and also caught a glance of the pair on chaise longue. Then she looked back to Cho with a wink. "They're fine as well. Lavender just got a reading from Professor Trelawney – she saw a baby in her future, and Lavender is so happy she can't get her head out of the clouds."

“Oh, I see.” 

Cho looked back and bit her lip. In truth, she didn’t necessarily _see_ – but then anything was better than yet another embarrassing display of jealously this evening. Harry’s insanity had been disturbing enough.

"You know, they broke up… I don’t know… a year ago or so because Lavender wanted children, and Hermione has no interest in being a mother," Astoria said with a little sigh and Cho thought the radiance drained a bit out of Astoria’s face. 

The brunette witch took a long drink from her glass. Meanwhile Cho merely took a nip of her own drink.

“Really, Ginny! You can stop pretending now,” Astoria giggled finally as she put her glass down. “We can all see you enjoyed a good spanking and a rough shag. And we are happy for you, really. But that dress is beyond saving.”

Ginny threw back her head defiantly and glared at Astoria. 

“Well, as long as you are happy for me, everything is fine, I guess,” she sneered and Cho was about to feel really tense again when she saw that the redhead’s glare turned into a smirk.

“Excellent,” said Astoria, her hand brushing Cho’s arm. “So now Miss Chang, how did you meet the esteemed Mr. Wood. Surely there’s a story in there somewhere?”

Suddenly all eyes were on Cho, who only now realised and heavily deplored the absence of any fellow Ravenclaws. Earlier she had seen Padma and Luna somewhere on the train but they weren’t here now. Of course Hermione normally possessed some very sensible character traits that could have landed her in Ravenclaw, the others however? Not so much. 

Truth be told, however different these witches were, in a way she had missed this – being part of a group of girlfriends, laughing and gossiping. After Cedric’s death her own little clique had somehow dissolved and in the end only Marietta had stuck with her. Of course then the whole disaster with Harry had happened. But she didn’t want to think about that now. 

“Well, you know,” Cho started to explain very matter-of-factly. “We met in Hogsmeade at Spintwitches Sporting Needs. Oliver was looking for some enchanted training Quaffle and I was looking for a new broomstick so he gave me some advice.” 

“Oh, oh… let me guess! Then you got on his broomstick?” Astoria asked brazenly.

Cho blushed and looked down at her shiny black satin flats.

“Well yes, but he also suggested I buy one of the new re-issued Silver Arrows and so I did.”

“You’re a wicked little witch, Cho Chang!” teased Ginny, giggling. “And that is a very fine broomstick even if you don’t fly professionally.”

In an attempt to regain her composure, more words poured from Cho’s lips in what seemed like an unceasing stream. “But you know the proposal was really very romantic. We were at the Three Broomsticks and he hid the ring in this pretty rose gold Snitch and…”

“That is so dreamy,” Lavender exclaimed, wide-eyed.

Meanwhile Hermione got up, finished Astoria’s drink and drew her girlfriend into a long snog.

“So very dreamy!” repeated Lavender, smiling hazily as she sank deeper into the chaise longue.

“It truly is,” said Hermione seriously and planted a light kiss on Cho’s cheek. “Congratulations, Cho!”

Then she walked back and lay down next to Lavender. Everybody smiled. And so did Cho, albeit still a bit confused and definitely in need of another drink before she would find a slice of Tunis cake and go back to Oliver.


	28. Connection –– Luna

Luna led the way through the carriages, hand in hand with Neville. She hummed "You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me" slightly off-key and had to force herself not to skip the path. It wouldn't do to make Neville miss a step, injure them both in the process, and have to wait for this moment to come around again.

It wouldn't do at all.

Occasionally, she squeezed his sweaty hand. But she didn't grimace, for her hand was just as damp. It was no surprise really, that he was as nervous as she was. Rightly so, too. If her observations proved to be correct, which they usually did one way or another, he was as inexperienced as she was – and perhaps even more so, despite dating Hannah this year.

For this reason, she slipped on her Spectrespecs with her free hand and batted the air around their heads. A few stray Wrackspurts were not going to muddle this experience for either of them.

Inuitively, she stopped in front of the last door of the third carriage, as the other three compartments seemed to be in various states of use. It opened easily, the gold knob turning soundlessly in her hand. The compartment inside was very dark, save for the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside and the remnants of a fire in the small hearth. It made the room glow a little rosy, and when Neville held out his wand and muttered "Lumos" she could see the reason why.

The entire room was as red as the tongue of the Sphinx she'd met over the summer. But the red had more life to it, so different from the strange creature, who had calmly spoken to her only in riddles. The walls were covered in flock velvet paper, blood red and so luxurious that Luna almost wanted to touch it. All the furniture was augmented in cherry wood, polished to such a high shine it gleamed richly in the candlelight. The carpet was deeply garnet, like the claret her father liked to drink after dinner, patterned with tiny metallic gold "G"'s that glinted when she moved. A long, squishy sofa as broad and wide as a French bed was in the centre, its silken fabric the colour of the rubies that tallied the Gryffindor House Points.

She narrowed her eyes and laughed at the fun of it, now wondering what the other three compartments looked like on the inside.

"Why are you laughing – it looks like someone was murdered in here. The compartment next door is just like it except that almost everything is blue," Neville said. 

He shut the door behind him and warded it. Luna hoped he didn't notice when she touched her own wand, strengthening the light wards he placed. It _might_ get a little noisy in here, later on, if their relationship got the definition they both wanted.

"It's for Gryffindor, Neville. Look at the carpet more closely," she said as she moved to sit on the couch. She bounced on it a little, testing out the cushions. Strong, silent, and soft. Her even teeth bit into the pink of her lower lip, thinking the man in front of her was just like that, too. Except for the soft bit, lately. He had really become lean and a little muscular in the years after the War.

Neville bent over to have a closer look, giving Luna the perfect glance of his nicely shaped bum. He shook his head and chuckled when he finally got it. "That means the blue one was for Ravenclaw, I bet. Can't believe I didn't see that before. Makes you wonder what the other compartments look like, doesn't it?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing, earlier. Funny how we always seem to do that. It's like we have a pair of Tattling Tittles between us, spreading our thoughts from ear to ear."

"What's a Tattling Tittle?" Neville asked. 

He gingerly sat next to her, his sweetly pink cheeks blushing a little darker when she placed a hand on his thigh.

"It a worm that sits in your ear and listens to your thoughts. They communicate the thoughts of the person they are assigned to back to another Tittle or to their Master," she said with authority. "We're only now finding out about them. Dumbledore himself cultivated them after the first War. It's how he always knew everything that was going on. Now Minister Shacklebolt has control of them, to make sure everyone is towing the line for peace."

"Really?" Neville asked, eyebrows raised. 

He leaned back against the sofa and took her hand in his. The gentle gesture made Luna tingle all over. His touch always did that – even back when they had been in school. DA meetings had always been the worst – sometimes she'd left so wet she had to change her knickers the second she got back to Ravenclaw Tower.

Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about that tonight. She shifted in her seat, letting the almost bare skin of her pussy tingle as she squeezed her thighs together.

"Really," she answered. 

Her thumb rubbed over his knuckles, tapping over each one before she slid it over his palm. Neville shivered. Even through his slipover and long sleeved red linen shirt Luna could sense the goose bumps rising on his skin, just as they were rising on hers underneath her silvery dress robes.

"It makes me wish the Ravenclaw room was open now, but Pansy is in it, with Harry… maybe when it's free we can pop our head in," he said hopefully. His eyes were very bright, and his blush deepened just a shade when he continued earnestly. "I can just imagine how beautiful you would look against all of the blue in there, like you did whenever you wore your blue lined robes in school."

"I knew how much you liked those, you know. I always made sure to wear them on days I knew I'd see you," she said. 

Her thumb caressed his palm gently before she let it wander up higher towards his wrist.

"Luna," he said, gasping a little when her thumb slipped under the cuff of his shirt. "I want you to know something."

"That you fancy me as much as I do you?" she asked, feeling his pulse jump.

Neville nodded vigorously, his cheeks turning as scarlet as the room around them. "In fact, I think I might – I mean, I'm pretty sure that…" 

He looked down at their hands and took a deep breath. Luna could hear him thinking the word "courage" as though he had actually spoken it out loud. Handy creatures these Tattling Tittles.

She nodded her head with encouragement and smiled brightly.

"That you might love me a little?" The pulse went so rapid, she could see it beating in his throat as his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Yes," he whispered. "I know a girl like you couldn't possibly –"

"Love you a little bit, too?" she finished, leaning closer to him and licking her lips. "But I do. I have known for years, actually."

Neville closed his eyes and groaned. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because you weren't ready yet. But you are now, aren't you?"

He nodded, leaning closer to her so that their lips almost touched. "I'm ready."

Luna pressed her body against his and sighed as he took her face in his hands with more grace than he probably knew he had, and kissed her. She moaned with the sheer joy of it. They fit together like two puzzle pieces that had been searching for each other after being lost under the wardrobe, and finally were united for the first time. 

With ease, he slid his tongue in her mouth. He tasted like a brandy old-fashioned, perhaps with a hint of strawberry jam – delicious and sweetly tart. She'd been sipping on a mint julep all evening to keep her own breath fresh and a little sweet. Neville seemed to like them – he got so excited when their tongues met that his hips bucked off the couch, his hands plundering into her hair and mussing the few curls she'd charmed in earlier in the evening.

Testing out a theory, as theories were all she had from this point on, she slid her hand down the front of his argyle slipover. At the shiny gold belt buckle she hesitated briefly before tracing his zip fastener with her fingers and cupping the hard flesh underneath. His hips bucked harder and he pulled back, gasping for breath.

"I… Luna… _naughty witch_ ," he chuckled before burying his face against her neck, kissing the cool skin there and groaning when she didn't pull her hand away.

"I'm a very naughty witch, Neville… but just as inexperienced as you are I'm afraid," she confessed.

He kissed her neck one last time before pulling away. His bluish green eyes went wide when he finally comprehended her words. "You're a virgin too?"

She nodded, feeling unexpectedly shy and looking away for a minute.

"I think that's… " He kissed her again with excitement. "I think that's brilliant."

"I've waited for you, you know," she said, meeting his gaze again. "I dated Rolf Scamander for a while, but whenever he kissed me and I opened my eyes, I always wanted it to be you there." She sighed before she added, "There's also the fact that his Tittle and mine refused to speak. In the times we live in, it's essential that they do you know."

"I've only dated Hannah," Neville confessed. "But whenever she looked up at me, I wanted her eyes to be grey, and for her to remind me to check my bed for Nargles."

"It's very important," Luna said seriously.

"Very," Neville agreed, laughing a little as he kissed her yet again. 

Tentatively, he let a hand wander down her throat. Now her pulse jumped – it felt so nice to be touched! When his hand met the swell of her breast, she concentrated as well as she could, considering all the sensations going on from the lips of her mouth to the lips of her pussy. But it was enough. She made her dress Vanish from her body, leaving Neville touching the peaches and cream of her bared chest.

It was the most amazing sensation in the world, and she might have come on the spot. If Neville hadn't started hyperventilating.


	29. Resolution –– Ron

“Hang on. Let me just munch… this air,” muttered Ron, still dizzy, looking around. “Now it’s just a simple matter of… you know, Lavender’s so frightfully happy.”

“Yeh all righ’, Ron?”

Hagrid’s huge hairy face appeared in his field of vision and the collar of his smart black dress shirt suddenly seemed very tight.

“Course! Nothing scares me,” said Ron quickly. “Well, apart from mum.”

Exhaling deeply, Hagrid sat back down next to Ron on the plush crimson sofa, which groaned and sagged down to the floor.

“Tell me yer secret plan then! An’ I’d say, it oughta be a thumpin’ good ‘un. Women take great store in such things, yeh know.” 

“What plan?” Ron swallowed. 

Knowing he must have forgotten about something, his face flushed in alternate shades of shame and panic. 

“Oh, you’ll kindly pardon the boy’s confusion.” 

With a haughty sniff, Narcissa Malfoy brushed a strand of her hair back from her face. At first, in his daze, Ron hadn’t recognised her as she had installed herself on his other side. Now it angered him that he was so sluggish and bloody Malfoy’s mother ended up defending him.

“After all it must have come as a terrible surprise. He doesn’t seem able to realise it yet.” Mrs. Malfoy looked at him hard before her gaze drifted to Professor Trelawney. 

Sherry bottle in hand, the latter lay sprawled upon a divan in the corner, presumably recuperating from the strenuousness of the tealeaves reading. Some of her beads had become entangled in her glasses and glittered reflecting fractals of light from the Mirror Ball Pansy had Transfigured earlier. Obviously, the Divination professor was already too tipsy to be bothered for further advice. Ron sighed, wishing for bitter dark coffee to clear his head. All the excellent food he had enjoyed earlier suddenly lost its appeal.

“Ah, Ron, yeh great bampot! ‘Tis Lavender! S’pose it musta be summat bloody special. I mighta thought yeh knew how ter propose.”

Finally things started to make sense. 

“Not really” said Ron, a bit vaguely, in response to both Mrs. Malfoy and Hagrid.

If he was honest, the results of Trelawney’s readings weren’t a great surprise. Of course, Hermione had never believed in the subject, walking out of class even back at Hogwarts. So Ron had already anticipated her icy scorn, but had found himself surprised when she actually agreed that it would be a lovely gesture. Then she had gone on to explain why she had come to the conclusion that Trelawney’s predictions weren’t all rubbish. It had to do with something called Statsticks and Hermione’s suspicion that good old Sybill had secretly attended some Muggle uni.

Ron wiped his sweating brow. He knew it was coming but he hadn’t given much thought to the actual proposal.

“What am I going to do about it?” he fumbled, his wits quite scattered. 

A magnificent and powerful gesture was required and he wished Hermione were there to advise him. Then of course he was grateful that she took care of Lavender, whose heart beating with happy excitement had been so overwhelmed.

“It’s not all hopeless!” Mrs. Malfoy assured him. “You only need the right idea. Rodolphus, for instance, did the most romantic thing for my dear sister Bellatrix. I’ll have you know, he used a freezing spell on the Black Lake – in the middle of September, mind you. Little frost needles were coating the leaves of alders and willows, glittering in the sun like diamonds. He had this fine green silk carpet with the Slytherin crest woven into it laid out on the ice. And at the end of it was this polished teak box with the most exquisite and expensive diamond and emerald ring I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.”

Her eyes had glazed over slightly at the memory and the mixture of dreaminess and sentiment in her voice was perfectly calibrated. Meanwhile, the palms of Ron’s hand were sweating and his head ached. Firstly, he would never be able to afford such an extravagant display despite his Auror salary. Secondly, it was hard to imagine such a sweetness to the fanatical Death Eaters. If he had had to guess, his galleons would have been on the engagement coming about in the midst of a passionate insanity, revelling in the blood and entrails of their victims.

“Well, that’s lucky,” Ron coughed. “Excuse me if I look like I don’t think much of the suggestion at all.”

“Oh dear, I keep forgetting,” Mrs. Malfoy laughed, quick and sharp. “Have you a ring at least?”

Suppressing a grim snarl, Ron pulled a small piece of jewellery from his jacket pocket. 

“It’s Great Auntie Muriel’s,” he said stiffly. “I only got it because she approves of Lav’s sturdy ankles.”

“How quaint.” Mrs. Malfoy raised her pale eyebrows as she inspected the ring politely. “And goblinmade.”

Suddenly there was the faintest pop and a hint of electricity in the air. Never losing his balance, Lucius Malfoy had Apparated very precisely onto the train carriage. A crystal tumbler of Odgen’s in hand, he elegantly sank into the velvet armchair opposite their little group. 

“And what have we here?” His dreadfully familiar drawling voice fell on Ron’s ears. “Dear me, Narcissa, you wouldn’t put this little trinket on your delicate finger. It’s so awfully common.”

“Listen, you snobbish –” Ron started, damned if he was going to knuckle under now but Mr. Malfoy ignored him.

“Now the question is, where happens to be our precious son? Found him a bride yet? One suitable to his family’s position?” 

His mouth was twisted by a sarcastic smile while his wife went deathly pale under his furtive gaze. For a moment Ron had been tempted to reveal Draco’s whereabouts. But now he felt almost sorry for Mrs. Malfoy and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Hagrid, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share any of his scruples.

“Next carriage with sweet youn’ Hannah. Now awa’ n bile yer head, yeh evil bugger!”

Half-choking, Mr. Malfoy stared furiously up at Hagrid.

“How wrong, how wicked…” 

The end of his wand lit up bluish-green, the Incendio charm perhaps a subconscious reaction. Meanwhile Mrs. Malfoy sat up straight and composed herself.

“Oh, quite, quite,” she replied, her voice reedy with forced calm before she extinguished the fire with a decisive Aguamenti. “I guess we can agree, this carpet is done for.”

Handing Ron his ring back, she got up with sublime self-assurance, and a curt nod made her husband follow her in search of Draco.

“Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, who remarkably was back on topic. “I reckon, yeh could chase down a unicorn. ‘Tis dangerous o’ course but Lavender would like tha’. Shows yer dedication an’ all!”

“Er – it’s a bit extreme,” said Ron on the verge of feeling desperately sorry for himself. The whole thing started to feel like wading through treacle on a cold day. “Maybe we need a third opinion.”

Looking around the carriage, he saw Ginny in a close embrace with Snape and quickly averted his eyes. It didn’t seem like anything he’d ever be entirely comfortable with. Then again, it wasn’t like Harry was a better choice these days. Banishing these bitter thoughts, his gaze fell upon Dean who was slow dancing with Padma under the glittering Mirror Ball. At the opposite end of the carriage, Seamus and Parvati were engaged in a round of Wizard Chess. But Ron knew that Parvati was actually with that dreadfully arrogant Blaise Zabini – maybe no big surprise, her working for Gringotts and him having a post at the Ministry’s Goblin Liaison Office. Still… all these Interhouse relationships! Sometimes it was hard to wrap one’s head around it all. 

“Yeh probably right, if yeh wan’ ter make a success o’ it” allowed Hagrid. “How abou’ askin’ Parvati then. Hasn’ ‘em two bin best friends since forever?”

Ron nodded. It was his last and best hope.

So he approached the pair, looking at the chess board as nonchalantly as he could despite wanting to instruct Seamus on how to soundly pound Parvati’s king. 

“Say it, Ron. You know you want to, and she’s killing me,” Seamus murmured as he gazed at the board. 

“Knight to king four, mate. You’ll get her in three more moves,” Ron said, taking note of Parvati’s angry expression. 

“That’s really not fair, you know,” she all but growled. 

Ron shrugged, glancing quickly at Seamus before he added, “You could check him in two moves if you look carefully enough.” 

Parvati looked at the board, her eyes widening slightly before she nodded in agreement. 

“So I could,” she said, making the first move. 

“Actually, if you two wouldn’t mind putting the game aside for a tick, I’d like to have a word.” 

“What do you need?” Seamus asked. He attempted to rise from the table before Ron quickly shook his head. 

“Let’s have a drink after I prop – err, I mean later on, after we get to Hogwarts. I meant I’d like to have a word with Parvati.” 

Her eyes narrowed on him slightly, though they were as kind as the smile that appeared on her lips. “I was wondering when you might get some advice from me, you prat.” 

Ron rolled his eyes as he watched her rise from the table, as graceful as a sylph in her dress robes that reminded him of the ones she’d worn to the Yule Ball. Sari-like, they were brightly shaded in coral and the deepest violet, and edged in gold thread, which glinted in the lights around them. Like a dutiful puppy, he followed her to the corner of the compartment behind the bar, where it was quieter and away from the other travellers. 

“How can I help you, Ronald?” she asked. 

“Are you going to make me ask?” 

“Yes, in fact I am.” 

Ronald kept his temper in check, though he felt his ears redden before he spoke. 

“I need your help. I want to ask Lav to marry me, but… “ he sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. “But, I’m no good at things like this, y’know? I want it to be special for her, but knowing me I’ll just make a mess of it.” 

Parvati looked at him appraisingly. “It’s about time you asked her.” 

“I know,” he said. 

“She’s been waiting a long time for you,” she reminded him. 

“It didn’t stop her from dating –” 

“Ron,” Parvati said sternly. 

He sighed again before replying, “I know.” 

Parvati was quiet for a long time before she spoke, and when she did her words came out very slowly, as though she were trying to educate an ickle First Year. 

“What would mean the most to Lavender, and would make it something that she would retell to your grandchildren, would be if you took it back to the start. You understand?” 

Ron nodded, even though he didn’t understand at all. What start? 

“To the beginning,” Parvati said impatiently. 

“Right… the beginning,” Ron agreed, still lost. 

Parvati all but stamped her foot. “Merlin, but you are thick. Count yourself lucky that she loves you to bits.” 

“Thanks,” Ron said dryly. 

“Where were you when you first decided you had feelings for each other?” 

“Erm, that’s a bit personal,” Ron said. He found his mind slipping back to that night after the Ministry party, when they had looked at each other across the room and he had all but melted when she smiled at him. It had been just like when they were kids, back in the Common Room in Gryffindor – 

“Ohhhhh!” 

“Exactly. Either there or on the steps up to the dorm. The steps would mean the most to her I’d reckon, because that’s when you kissed her the first time. In the Common Room she got a little over excited and almost made a muck of things.” 

They both laughed at the memory of that day. Everyone had been excited about the Quidditch win, but the luckiest part of his day had been when Lavender had kissed him for the first time. 

“I’ll take her to the stairs. In those heels she’s a little taller than me tonight.” 

“Sounds perfect,” Parvati said, smiling for the first time since Ron pulled her away from her game of chess. “Now, let me see the ring that Madam Malfoy turned her nose at.” 

Ron grimaced as he pulled the small ring from his pocket again. He handed it to Parvati, who studied it with all the knowledge of the jeweller at Twilfit and Tattings. Or at least, that’s what he assumed the jeweller would look like, it wasn’t like he’d ever be able to afford what they wanted for a travelling cloak. 

The ring was something he was actually rather proud of, even though it was small. The gold was delicately etched with thistles around the band, and a very dark ruby sat at the centre. ‘Pidgeon’s blood’, Auntie Muriel had called it, whatever that meant. 

“She’ll love this, you know,” Parvati finally said, passing the ring back to him. 

“I thought she’d want something bigger.” 

Parvati shook her head. “She’s more sentimental than you realise. Lavender will love that this has been in your family, and there’s also the fact that she thinks your great aunt hung the moon.” 

Ron grimaced. “Lucky me.” 

“Yeah, lucky you,” she said. “You got the girl. One who you just barely deserve, and…” 

“Watch it,” Ron warned. 

Parvati smiled and looked over his shoulder, waving to someone behind him. He turned and saw Lavender enter the compartment, followed by Astoria, Cho, and Hermione. None of the other women, as lovely as they may be, lit up the room like Lav did, nor did their presence heat him from head to toe. He felt gentle hands pat him on the back as Lavender’s eyes found him, and when her laughing voice reached his ears it felt like he was home. 

“Lucky me,” he agreed.


	30. Disentanglement –– Minerva

A distinctly marked tabby cat alighted the first carriage at Hogsmeade Station with a nimble jump, leaving light paw prints in the fresh snow. The night lay clear and moonless above the frozen hillsides and turned the Black Lake into an abyss. The stark, wintry pre-Christmas dawn was still some hours away. Yet the darkness thinned as hundreds of candles floated in midair over the platform and trees appeared, glittering white with rime and sparkling with tiny icicles.

The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed, as Minerva McGonagall straightened up, appearing again in full human form. The day before she and Filius had busied themselves with the decorations – holly and mistletoes beaded with round golden lights adorned the walls of the small station house. Perfect except for – she peered sternly over her glasses – Peeves had outwitted Filch yet again. The blinking lights of the welcoming message now read: “Happy Christmas! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

Her nostrils flared before a thin smile returned. After all, it had been a night of mostly well-mannered frivolity. Nothing like the subdued Christmas celebrations of her youth in her father’s Presbyterian manse. Back when Hogmanay was by far the largest celebration in Scotland. Minerva allowed herself a moment of contemplation, looking at the stagecoaches on the dark road behind the station and the thestrals that would pull them. Her thoughts wandered to Elphinstone, Dumbledore and Robert – a partner, a friend, a brother – all long lost now among so many others.

“Watch yourself on the stairs. It’s a bit icy on top.” Cho Chang’s musical voice guiding a sleepy Oliver Wood off the train, brought Minerva back to the here and now.

If she gave it a thought, this was certainly a match she approved of. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw united! They were followed by Longbottom and Miss Lovegood – both a bit peculiar and yet somehow suited. Then Thomas and Miss Patil tumbled down into the snow, tipsy and giggling madly.

_Babbling, bumbling band of baboons._

Well, there was always something. Minerva rolled her eyes ever so slightly.

Before the Hogwarts Express came to a stop, she had assumed her Animagus form to take a brief look through the carriages. Better to know what fires needed putting out upon their arrival.

“Now, those of you, who take breakfast with us in the Great Hall, please make your way to the carriages,” Pomona Sprout raised her voice above the clamour. “Everyone else – we have the Floo in the station house connected, so you may get home safely.”

Minerva nodded curtly in agreement. Now unfortunately, some issues were unavoidable.

Turning back towards the Hogwarts Express, she spotted Filius levitating Sybill down the stairs of the second train car’s door with the help of his apprentice.

“Make way, make way,” she heard Filius squeak. Meanwhile Macmillian gallantly held out a hand to Miss Vane and assuaged her, “Not to worry, Ro. She’s probably right as rain.”

The young mediwitch, evidently thankful for the assistance, nodded then looked around the platform nervously.

“Ernie, do you think, I ought to say goodbye to Harry though?”

Hoping she’d catch his eye, Minerva shot a sharp look at Macmillian.

He breathed deeply and replied rather pompously, “I'd no sooner let you do this than I'd let a mad erumpent near a child!”

For a moment frigidly kindled by an ironic smile, Minerva realised that while this part of the crisis seemed resolved, the trouble with Potter still remained. Speaking of erumpents though – her gaze wandered to Horace, who after a light dip and twirl helped Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank into one of the carriages. It reminded her of a misguided mating ritual with a hippopotamus. Something she must have read about in Scamander’s autobiography. The comparison was really unkind of course. She snorted briefly, trying to hide her amusement. Then again, the moment passed quickly enough as her attention turned to the conversation a few feet away.

“Draco! Draco, don't be stupid! I would be cold-hearted indeed not to sympathise,” drawled Lucius Malfoy with a cold malevolent stare then turned to his son’s companion. “As of course, a young witch like Miss Abbott here, with a little slip in her otherwise irreproachable ancestry, would now desire to reguliarise her situation.”

“You are talking about Hannah’s mum, father?” replied young Malfoy stiffly. “I choose not to hear it.”

Yet, notwithstanding his neat features and his so civilly controlled expression, in those pale grey eyes of his, Minerva detected the cowed look of a hunted crup.

Meanwhile Narcissa closed her eyes, her face eloquent with despair.

“Lucius, please –” she said in a strained whisper. “Come, Draco, come.”

The boy hesitated. Wondering not for the first time, if Hogwarts had failed to protect him from his parents’ overindulgence and control or if his idle wavering was rather a natural character flaw, Minerva’s mouth was set to an expression of sarcastic exasperation and her lips were pallid.

“Listen to your mother, son. If you think you see even one knut of my fortune if you don’t, let me disabuse you of this illusion,” said the elder Malfoy with a sneer, his voice positively dripping with regret. “Or do I look insincere?”

Young Malfoy’s fingers tightened around Miss Abbott’s hand. The girl seemed to gather determination yet could hardly speak the words and Minerva saw that her lips were trembling.

“I really couldn't say,” answered Miss Abbott, her cheeks flushing pink. “Your face is kind of built that way.”

Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury clouding his features. His son snorted briefly. It was obvious that a solution wasn’t in sight. Swathed in her long dark green travelling cloak, Minerva strode towards the group, smiling a cold and authoritative smile.

“You better have an excellent excuse for this intrusion, Lucius!” She shot a sharp look at him. It was clear she didn’t expect an answer.

Narcissa conjured up a strained smile on her face, eager to appease all sides.

“I am sorry, Minerva. It is but a little disagreement… Lucius came so… we would see that, Draco comes to no harm.”

Minerva was slightly amused by her professional manoeuvring.

“Indeed. We can’t have that,” she said in a clipped voice. “And I’m not planning on presiding over the end of determination and resourcefulness. Two of Slytherin House’s major values after all.”

“Dear me, I failed to bring my tarot cards,” Lucius interrupted and gave her an annihilating glace. “Or is there a point to this lecture?”

At this moment a brief and distinctly malicious smirk flitted over the headmistress’s face.

“Surely it is obvious,” she replied calmly. “Your son is determined to leave with Miss Abbott, I take it?”

The boy nodded slowly.

“That's the spirit, now away you go,” said Minerva curtly, dismissing him and the girl with a stern look over her glasses, before turning back to his father. “Meanwhile I trust you are resourceful enough to broaden your horizons from the Dungeons to the Basement. It’s only a few steps after all.”

“My dear headmistress, was that sarcasm?” asked Lucius with insulting astonishment and more than a touch of acidity in his voice.

“If you had to ask, it probably was.”

As Lucius’s face glowed angry red in the candlelight, Narcissa let out a strangled sob at their son’s departure.

“Narcissa, I hope you’ll join us peacefully for breakfast now and I won’t have to Transfigure Lucius into a parenting guide… or a Put-Outer perhaps? Dumbledore must have invented one for sound.”

Minerva pressed her lips together, raised her brows and looked to the side. Her mind had already moved on to other things. And so she was sweeping along without looking back.

_One more problem to deal with._

Halfway to the station house, where she had last seen Potter, Parkinson and Hagrid, a voice came out of the shadows.

“Please, Professor McGonagall – we were wondering,” asked Hermione Granger, a trifle shaky. “What is to be done with Harry?”

Minerva turned to face the group that also consisted of Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown and… the younger Greengrass girl. Somehow the latter still gave her pause. Of course the fact that she hadn’t really thought about an answer to Miss Granger’s question did so as well. Plus, she hated hasty decisions.

“Madam Pomfrey seems to think a stay at St. Mungo’s would do Potter good,” she said with a frown.

“That’s decided then,” said Miss Granger, looking relieved. “I know he hasn’t been very nice lately but we can visit him, don’t you think?”

“In time, I would suppose so.” The little line between her eyebrows vanished as she collected herself. “Now proceed to the carriages and I will see to Mr. Potter.”

Potter’s scowling face loomed in the corner of her vision. Very stiffly yet briskly Minerva walked up to the station house.

“I must say, I was pleased with your comportment tonight, Parkinson, very pleased,” she told her assistant while looking at Potter. “Just as a point of interest, the Petrificus Totalus was entirely necessary?”

“As best I can tell,” Parkinson’s tone was reasonable but there was a ring of giddiness in it. “But Potter and I won’t let that get in the way of our friendship.”

Minerva’s glasses flashed suspiciously. “Now, in that case, I suggest you assist Hagrid in checking Potter into St. Mungo’s. As you know, the Floo network in the station house is connected.”

Parkinson opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, “Yes – yes, of course, headmistress.”

Meanwhile Hagrid took out a large spotted handkerchief and buried his face in it. “S-s-sorry. But I c-c-can’t stand it. Poor little Harry off ter hospital on Christmas.”

“Believe me, I take absolutely no pleasure in this,” sniffed Minerva angrily. “But if we want him to get better –”

“I know, I know,” conceded Hagrid in a very muffled voice, as he bent his shaggy head over Harry and picked up his petrified form. “All righ’. Yeh good ter go, Pansy? G’night, Professor McGonagall, ma’am.”

For a brief moment, Minerva closed her eyes, hoping this was all of it and the remainder of the festivities would proceed efficiently. As usual the Great Hall looked spectacular with twelve towering Christmas trees decorated in all the House colours. The Hogwarts kitchen elves had surely prepared a lavish breakfast. They had obtained some Christmas crackers from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Filch and Professor Sinistra had looked after the students that stayed at school over the holidays…

“Happy Christmas, Minerva!” A silky voice broke into her thoughts.

“Severus,” she nodded, at once back in the present.

It was an awkward situation. They had hardly spoken since the War, since she had cursed him and he fell out that large window. Yet shortly after the final battle she had – upon Harry’s insistence – Severus’s portrait put up with those of the other headmasters. Minerva couldn’t deny that she had mixed feelings about her former colleague and friend. For her taste, he had played the role of committed Death Eater a bit too convincingly during his time as headmaster. But in the end, no matter how good their reasons, what had embittered her most was that he and Albus hadn’t taken her into their confidence.

Severus said nothing, leaving her to her reflections.

“An eventful evening,” added Minerva grudgingly. “All this unbridled joy has given me quite an appetite.”

Certainly knowing her disdain for useless conversation, he inclined his head.

“Ginny feels a bit… overexcited,” said Severus smoothly, dusting some snowflakes off his heavy black robes. “So with regret, I think we are going to take our leave now.”

“With regret,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing.

Looking over to little Ginny Weasley in a Niffler fur coat so expensive it surely made Narcissa jealous, Minerva smiled grimly, wondering if the relationship bothered her. Considering the age difference between herself and Elphinstone, it surely wasn’t that. Maybe she still felt a bit sorry for Potter. Then again, no – it wasn’t that either but rather the fact that Ginny and the bleeding Harpies had beaten her favoured Magpies severely in the last match. What a flop that whole affair had been!

“Give my best to Miss Weasley then,” offered Minerva and nodded briefly in the girl’s direction. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”

The two Disapparated and Minerva finally made her way over to the carriages, taking her place next to Pomona at the very front.

“Now, if we are ready to go –” she lifted her wand, giving the thestrals a nonverbal command to move. “Nobody enjoys overboiled tea.”


	31. Completion -- Ginny

_A few Christmas's Later ..._

Narrow ribbons of icy rain drifted through Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Looking out the plate-glass door of the apothecary, Ginny could barely see that the eastern sky was growing paler. Carefully, she put up the wards before she removed her shoes and stowed them in the little cabinet by the front door, marked only with a tiny golden lioness. Then her silk dress came off and she placed it neatly on a dress hanger next to her Niffler fur coat. As per Serverus’s house rules, she was – unless otherwise instructed – only to wear her knee socks around the shop and the flat.

“Your master’s dark and frozen eyes, now have your light to bed and to arise,” Luna had said in a sing-song voice, her natural dreaminess leaking out when she had hugged Ginny goodbye at breakfast.

Now Ginny gave a small squeal as her eyes were drawn to the soft pink glow of the crystal vial with the sensitising potion. Next to it stood two small glass jars. One glimmered faintly green and contained an infernal ointment that caused her clit and nether lips to swell obscenely and throb with delicious pain. The other held the comforting and lubricating orange tinted cream for their more daring adventures. Then there was a string of ivory beads, he often made her to insert in her arse now, especially when she went out on errands. And of course there was the belt, which still made her shiver, leaving her with a feeling of ambiguity.

As she pulled on her knee socks and longed for the warming fire in their bedroom, she wondered if she was to bring any of these things. She had promised him a surprise after all.

Before she closed the door of the cabinet, she quickly glanced at a small box with a red bow. It was a present from Fleur and Angelina – a little silver bell attached to a chain and a clit clamp. How they knew about her desires, she had no idea. She trembled embarrassment, not daring to ask them. Oh, she could just imagine how they’d toppled over laughing, when they had selected this gift for her. The very thought of it made Ginny’s face glow like the setting sun. Still she would have to face them on Christmas Day.

“You come upstairs, Ginny.”

Severus’s stern voice floated down from their kitchen and she could imagine his black eyes glittering in the candlelight at her dilly-dallying. Hurrying up the steep flight of dark polished stairs, Ginny found him indeed in front of the stove and the kettle was simmering over a green flame. For quite a minute Ginny stood and looked at him. She shifted from one foot to the other, wondering whether she should have prepared the tea.

“It’s a special blend,” Severus’s thin lips curled into a sneer, having read her thoughts. “Move along to the bedroom.”

Ginny nodded silently.

A small fir tree stood in the corner by the window. It was a bit crooked and they had decorated it with gold and silver ornaments. There were also a few transparent spheres with tiny models of magical places. One had a miniature of Hogwarts in it towering over the Black Lake, snowflakes fluttering through the clear sky. Another showed a stunning structure carved out of the mountainside and shrouded in mist, so that it sometimes appeared simply to float in mid-air. Severus had told her it was called ‘Mountains of the Moon’. So intricate and beautiful, but Ginny couldn’t focus. A nervous twitch shivered through her body, thinking about what she had discovered only the day before. The surprise she had alluded to earlier.

Entering the room, Ginny found that Severus had not yet changed but was still in full formal wear. Carefully, he placed a tray with the teapot and one cup on the night table, then sat down on the bed and patted his lap.

“Sit, Ginny,” said Severus silkily and handed her the teacup. “I remember, I was promised a surprise. But drink first.”

“Thank you, sir!” murmured Ginny, who suddenly felt very thirsty.

His calmness frightened her a bit, as she felt more and more uncertain about her confession. As she sipped her tea, he pulled and pinched her nipples lightly, watching her face for her reaction. She moaned at his touch and felt herself getting wet at once. Yet she kept drinking her tea. Slowly, Severus ran his hand along the lower curve of her left breast, hefting it lightly as if weighing it. Then he tweaked and rolled her nipple between his fingers again.

“You don't have milk yet, do you?” he purred.

Ginny shook her head slowly and blushed to the roots of her red hair. He poured her another cup of tea.

“This should get you started, lioness,” he said, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face.

Suddenly Ginny realised the taste of his special blend. Fenugreek, Goat’s Rue, Fennel and Milk Thistle.

“You… you knew, sir?” she whispered, trembling.

Severus’s upper lip was curling. He slowly rubbed a finger between her legs, dipped it into her wet cunt and brought it to his mouth.

“Of course, silly girl,” he appeared amused. “I’ve started tasting it about a week ago.”

Yet again, Ginny was in awe of him and how he seemed to know her body better than she did herself. Restless, she sat the empty teacup down. Even though she was excited to be pregnant, there was a certain fear that ate at her. Pulling all her strength together she spoke up.

“Sir, please don’t let this stop you from teaching me,” she said earnestly.

The familiar sneer was twisting his mouth. “Your education is very important to me, Ginny. We will simply adjust certain aspects for a time.”

“Thank you, sir!” she uttered a little cry of relief.

For a moment, he looked at her reflectively. Then with a decisive Accio, he summoned a small box and showed her two slim wedding bands.

“White gold,” he said evenly, perhaps a bit gently. “We wouldn’t want another howler from your mother now, would we?”

Stunned into silence, Ginny merely nodded.

“You will have to earn a say in what runes we’ll have engraved though,” he added conversationally. “So now would be a good time for the surprise you promised me earlier!”

Though she knew that she would be perfectly happy with whatever runes he was going to choose, Ginny licked her lips. Whatever she chose to do would have to be perfect. After all, she so greatly wanted to please him.  Silently, she flicked her hand at the bedside table, summoning the small present that she had hidden behind a box of sanitary napkins.  Even Severus had his limits, and she hoped he never looked past that distractor.

“Sneaky lioness,” he said smoothly.  He shook the box carefully, like a boy investigating the presents underneath a Christmas Tree, smiling when he heard a light shift from within.

“Open it, sir.  Please,” Ginny said.  She had picked the present out long before she had found out about the little visitor that was just now starting to make her dose in the afternoon.  Now, the anticipation had come to a head, and she couldn’t wait any longer to know if he approved of her gift.

Smirking, he put away the rings and carefully untied the green and red bow, unwrapping the paper with such slow precision that she would have stamped her foot with impatience, had she been standing.  Instead she huffed, thankfully catching herself before the sound left her lips.

“Careful, Miss Weasley,” Severus warned.

“Of course, sir,” she said, though her breath quickened when he finally opened the box.

She heard his breath catch, the silence in the room overwhelming her as much as his hands did when he corrected her behaviour. 

“I,” Severus began, having to swallow before he could continue, “This is …”

“Put it on, sir,” Ginny said. 

“Perhaps you should do so, since you already had your brave plans laid out.”

She nodded, even as she knelt in front of him.  Taking the box from his hands, she lifted out a heavy band that had put a considerably dent into her account at Gringotts.  A month ago, she had seen the ring in the window at Twilfitt and Tattings, sitting very lonely off to the side, away from the popular “House Rings” bedecked with brightly coloured gemstones.  The band was made from ancient silver, the etchings so deep that they appeared black in the candlelight.

“Gaelic, sir.  I’ve charmed it so that no one will be able to read the words, except for us.”

“And what does is say?”

Ginny blushed.  “I had to take it to be translated, but the words are _Bàthaidh uisge teth teine,”_ she said, repeating the words carefully. 

“Meaning?”

The blush deepened until she felt as though her face was aflame.  “Hot water will quench fire.”

His warm laughter was a soothing balm over her, and even Ginny began to laugh to the point that tears ran down her cheeks. 

“Who is the water, and who is the flame, you cheeky girl?” he chuckled.

“I think we are both, sir.  I quench you as much as you do me.  At least I hope so,” she said, suddenly shy and very aware of her nudity.  Ginny took his right hand in hers, saving his left for a different ring that she would probably place onto his finger in fortnight.  Kissing his palm, and each of his fingers in turn, she took her time simply adoring him before slipping the ring onto his fourth finger, placing a final kiss over it before looking up. 

“Get on the bed.  Now.” His voice was close to breaking, and she wondered if she would see the man underneath his mask tonight.  But she did as instructed, lying on her back and parting her thighs with her hands to present herself for his inspection. 

“Obedient one,” he said, his voice so soft that she had to look up to read his lips. 

“Sir?”

Severus moved between her legs, his presence there filling her even though he wasn’t inside her yet.

“It’s what your rune will be, little girl,” he said.  His voice was stronger now, and Ginny resisted the urge to sigh when she realised that the mask was back in place.  Heavy, dense dress robes were gone in a few whispers of fabric, and he pressed himself against her, covering her with his body as he leaned forward to kiss her lips.

“My protector,” she sighed as she closed her eyes.  When his lips stilled on hers, Ginny bent her head forward, trying to incite the sparks they could make.

“Do you really feel that way about me?” he asked.  Those maddening lips fluttered over hers with each word, his tongue swiping her lips when it touched his own.

“Of course I do, sir.”  She took the opportunity to kiss his open mouth, slyly touching her tongue to his.  “It’s what you’ve done since I was a girl.  Even now, you keep me warm, keep me safe … satisfy every one of my needs.  It’s what your rune should be.”

“If you’d studied harder in school you’d know that runes cannot be as possessive as I am,” he chided, slapping her milky white thigh hard enough to sting.  “But there is one that means, ‘Her Guardian’.  Would that suit?”

“Perfectly,” she said, smiling. 

He thrust inside her roughly, painfully, with no preamble or preparation.  Ginny bit her lip, groaning as she quivered around him, already orgasming before she had permission.  And as hard as she tried to fight against it, she continued to come with every thrust.  Her voice became ragged from her cries, her tiny pleas for him to stop mixed with sobs for him to never stop.  But never once did she use her word, for she knew that he would only give her what she could take, and in her limited exprience she knew that no one had ever perished from pleasure.

When he finished, coming with a hard gasp, Severus rested his body on top of her.  It was then that she became aware of the wetness between them.  She touched the fluid, thinking that he had either come on her chest or …

Ginny blushed with that memory as she looked at the fluid on her hands.  It was almost clear, but cloudy, bluish white in appearance.  Almost like –

“Milk,” she said, frowning down at him as she realized that the tea wasn’t made in preparation of the milk to come – he had made it especially to make her lactate now.

“So it is,” he said.  Gazing up at her, Ginny saw him study her expression as he massaged her breasts.  They tingled with his touch, though now in a way that she had never experienced before.  She looked down, watching the drops drip from her nipples, running down the sides of her breasts and onto the coverlet.

“May I clean you?” he asked, and she could see the mask drop, ever so slightly.

Nodding, Ginny stared at him in wonder as he licked her breasts, catching every drop of milk with his slippery tongue.  Severus moaned against her, his cock growing hard against her thigh as his mouth reached one of her erect nipples.  He slipped a hand between her thighs, three of his thick fingers sliding inside her pussy as his hot mouth latched on.

“Merlin … _oh, sir!_ ” she cried, orgasming again. 

She wasn’t sure how long he fingerfucked her while drinking from her breasts, only aware of sensation – especially his hot lips and tongue at her breast.  Occasionally, in the moments between spasms, she could catch a glimpse of him and his naked face, watching her in turn.  The flimsy veil between them was completely gone in those brief seconds, and she could see the man he should have been, had it not been for Tom Riddle.  Lines gone, face in utter peace, though there was a glint in his eye that Ginny was sure he had been born with.  She knew that he could see her too, as she had become increasingly aware of the face she put on before others.  In his eyes, she could just catch the reflection of her face – wild and free, and for the first time since she was eleven years old she felt completely whole and pure as her lover worshiped her.

The sharp nip of teeth brought her mind right back to Severus.  He was either sated, or the early milk had run dry.  Regardless, he nipped her other nipple in the same manner, making her clinch around the fingers still rubbing rhythmically inside her. 

“Those little clamps you love are going to make the upcoming months unbearable for you, lioness,” he murmured, nipping his way down to her core.  When his teeth grazed over her swollen clit she cried out again, though her throat was no longer able to produce the sound. 

“Sir,” she whispered.  “Sir, I think – “

“I agree, this time,” Severus said.  He moved next to her, resting his head on her pillow as he drew her into his arms – still making her lick his fingers clean.  She could have laughed when she realized that indeed, her flavor had changed.  Smart, smug man.  When she’d cleaned her fingers completely he cradled her head to his chest, her ear next to the steady, soothing rhythm of his heart.

“You are mine,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she agreed.  “As you are mine.”

“I bind you to me, here and now.”

“As I bind you to me, sir,” she breathed.  “Forever.”


End file.
